Of Monsters and Men
by drjekyllmshyde
Summary: When a Magician is brought to entertain the court of a wicked Queen, he discovers there is more to Mazanderan than gardens, beautiful women and riches. A story of romance, political intrigue, and betrayal. Erik/OC with Kay influences. Nadir aka "The Persian" will be heavily involved, as will the Sultana.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Welcome! I'm pretty excited about this story - I've had parts of it bouncing around in my head for a while now. I particularly like the OC in this one (you'll get to know her better in the next chapter). For those of you not familiar with Susan Kay's Phantom, this story takes place during the time in Gaston Leroux's novel the Persian calls "The Rosy Hours of Mazanderan", which are implied to be rosy from bloodshed and not from the beautiful palaces of Persia. If you're familiar with my stories, you'll recall I have a tale out there from this time period already. This is a completely separate story with a completely separate heroine that do not in any way cross. At all. Period. This is going to be one of my longer, more complex and complicated stories with LOTS of twists and turns in store!

* * *

"You'll be staying here for now. If you please the Shah and his wife enough you'll be given apartment of your own."

The Magician stepped into the house behind his host, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders squared as though he were a prince rather than a servant of the palace. With mask darker than a moonless night covering the majority of his face, it was impossible judge the stranger's thoughts. How odd it was that Nadir Khan, true prince and Daroga of Mazandaran was so anxious to know if the newcomer was pleased! He should care no more about this opinion of this man than of the Russian Acrobats or Siamese cats brought to the palace in the past.

Granted, it had never before been his duty to bring the cats or acrobats to the palace personally, nor had he ever been told they would stay with him and his family. It was not the first time Nadir found himself wondering what the Shah and his wicket little bride wanted with this bizarre man from the west.

For three days the Daroga and his men had traveled up the banks of the Caspian Sea into Azerbaijan in search of this man whose reputation had far preceded him. The Magician, Erik of Azerbaijan, The Living Corpse… the man had many names, each with a more peculiar story behind it. Some said he could raise the dead, others claimed he could make the very walls and rocks sing like angels. Still others had been so shaken by their encounter with the man that they had considered forming a new sect of Islam to worship him as a prophet so great were his powers.

The trip had not been disappointing.

Nadir and his men found The Magician just west of the coastal capital of Baku. The tent looked rather like it belonged to a Gypsy, make-shift but sturdy and large enough to accommodate the throng of people who had gathered outside.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty, and people were beginning to wonder if The Magician they had heard stories of existed at all. All doubts were quelled when the inside corners to the entrance of the tent appeared to levitate on their own, withdrawing and clasping up and out of the way to reveal the smoke-filled cavern within.

Along with the crowd Nadir stepped inside, lingering towards the outside of the room to allow the spectators their show. At the front of the room stood an upright, narrow casket, closed but not yet nailed. Truly the whole room looked to be in the beginning stages of a funeral; tall candles provided the only lighting, incense and lilies were places all about as though to cover the smell of the body.

Suddenly the tent flaps dropped shut, and before the room could dissolve into panic a stunning voice filled the room, followed by another, and still another. The voices had no gender, and while at first they appeared to have no source the alarmed voice of a man towards the front of the room rang out. "Allah! The lilies! The lilies are singing!"

Edging his way towards the nearest vase, the Daroga, police chief and prince of Mazandaran found himself astonished beyond words. The lilies were still, but they certainly were not without life; the angelic voice seemed to come from within the very flower itself!

While everyone's attention was focused on the marvelous singing flowers, a movement towards the front of the room drew the Daroga's attention. The casket was opening. Inside was a monster so grotesque it could only likened to Death Himself. The body (for it was certainly a corpse long diseased) was dressed in a fine European suit, his arms folded neatly across his chest. Skeletal fingers adorned with a single ring on the smallest finger lay draped across his chest serenely. The look on his deadened face was serene as well; or as serene as possible with skin so taught and hollow. Every vein in the man's flesh could be seen…

But that made no sense at all, Nadir realized. A dead man's veins would have dried up long ago – and was that a flutter of a pulse?

The corpse's arms unfolded stiffly at first, as though prying itself from the paralysis of death. After a few moments the movement of the body became more fluid, graceful even. Eyes now open and studying his surroundings as though moderately surprised to find himself in company, the corpse spoke. "Who among you dares to wake the dead?"

When no one answered, the corpse began to stalk about the room, inspecting the men and women with cold, tawny eyes. He stopped in front of a man who was all but trembling.

"I-I-it wasn't me, Sir. The flowers started singing and –"

The corpse turned on his heel, suddenly as harmless as a man in love. "Ah, the flowers! I should have known it was their call. Lillies are a very special flower, did you know? Their scent can bring life where there is none. I can see you don't believe me – let me show you."

Over the course of the afternoon The Magician displayed his talents with a showmanship the likes of which Nadir had never seen. He brought to life butterflies, birds, and small animals, created dazzling illusions so close to the audience it was impossible for even the Daroga not to become entranced by the performance.

The Daroga lingered in the tent after the crowd had left. The Magician slipped gracefully into a black leather mask before reaching for a bottle of dark red wine and uncorking it to pour a glass. If he noticed the Persian remained, he said nothing.

"That was a truly remarkable performance," he praised, offering a hand to shake. "Nadir Khan, Daroga of Mazandaran."

The Magician sat languidly in a large chair next to the casket, taking a long drink from his glass and rejecting the man's hand before speaking. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested."

Nadir withdrew his hand and stood taller in defiance. "I am not selling anything. I am here to offer you a position in the Palace of Mazandaran, entertaining the Shah and his court. You will be very well compensated for your time, of course."

Carefully the Magician looked over the darker-skinned man, and suddenly Nadir felt as vulnerable as a cattle at auction. With a casual air the Magician put down his glass and stood, towering over the Persian and walking about him to continue his inspection. "Daroga. That's some sort of royal title, I take it?"

"No. It's the title for the head of police."

"Yet your eyes are clear, your teeth are good, your posture is straight. A warrior would be diseased, so you must come from money."

"…Well, yes. By birthright I am a prince, but I am far removed from the throne."

"Why choose a career that takes you so far from home fetching lowly magicians?"

"Why choose a career as a lowly magician when you are clearly remarkably gifted and well off yourself? Your posture is better than mine, your voice and mannerisms would suggest years of expensive tutelage, even a formal education in the arts -"

"Ah, but my face would suggest decades of poverty and disease, would it not?" The Magician pointed out, stopping in front of the Daroga again to peer down on him from behind the mask that now hid his horrendous features.

"A well-made mask," The Persian suggested defiantly.

Suddenly the man reached up and peeled the black mask off his face, revealing the monstrous rotting corpse the Daroga had seen during his performance. With his thin, rotted lips curled back in a snarl it was nearly impossible not to flinch so close to the face of Death incarnate. "This? You think THIS is the mask? Perhaps you're not as well off as I thought if you're so thick, or is Persian royalty as disgustingly overbred as the rest of the world?"

Nadir quickly composed himself, keeping his shoulders square. "A terrible accident then. Acid, perhaps, or fire-"

"Birth. A terrible accident, true, but not so tragic as acid or fire," the man explained, his voice dropping as his temper cooled. He was silent until the mask was neatly placed back over his scars. "You never answered my question."

"I wanted to work and travel. I wanted to help people rather than live off them as my ancestors have. Is that so wrong?"

The Magician returned to his seat, leaving Nadir standing in silence. Frustrated at his suddenly dismissive attitude, the Daroga spoke again. "If you don't come with me today, I will return every day for as long as it takes. I cannot go back to Mazandaran empty handed, Magician."

"You mean you _will_ notgo back empty handed," the Magician corrected, but the Daroga shook his head.

"I cannot. Frankly, the only reason I agreed to come this far was lack of choice. I am the chief of police, not an errand boy. When I refused out of pride, the Shah strongly suggested my son would not live through his illness should I refuse."

This seemed to intrigue the man immensely, and he put his wine aside. "What is wrong with the boy?"

"He has been ill since birth. Doctors have no name for it."

This had been the lynchpin. The Magician seemed to care nothing for the thought of wealth entertaining royalty would bring. Rather, the character of his host and escort into Persia along with the intrigue of a childhood illness had enticed the man to pack his things and leave Azerbaijan.

"How many others live here?"

"Only two; my son Reza and my sister Sara who cares for him," Nadir explained, dusting off his boots.

For the first time since arriving, the Magician faced his host. "And your wife?"

Nadir ignored the question. "The Sultana is expecting you. If you please her, you are all but guaranteed to please the Shah."

* * *

The entire room fell silent when the Magician was escorted in. He held himself alluringly, making it impossible for the women in the room to take their eyes off him. Even covered in black from head to foot, the man stood out strikingly; he was easily a head taller than the eunuchs standing behind him, masked and gloved like a common thief. The shadow of the mask caused his eyes to stand out alarmingly, reflecting the light like jewels… or the eyes of a panther on the hunt.

"Well… what have we here?" Purred the woman at the center of the room where she lay draped across several pillows. As she sat upright, her taught little body reminded the Magician of a snake in the grass. Whether she was venomous or not was still to be determined.

The masked man dipped his head in introduction. "You sent for me, Your Highness."

"I sent for a magician from the West so renowned they simply call him The Magician. _You_," the woman half sneered, though there was delight in her eyes. "You look to me like a con artist. Tell me now why I shouldn't feed you to the dogs."

"How many reasons would you like?" Came the man's thick, sultry voice from just behind the Sultana's right ear, causing her to jump visibly before grinning widely. He had not moved an inch!

"Very interesting. I could almost feel your breath on my neck," the woman purred. "Show me something with one of my girls," she insisted, gesturing to the harem of women whose tension had not eased since the moment the Magician entered.

Obligingly, the masked man began to walk around the room, hands neatly clasped behind his back as those frightening cat-like eyes surveyed the harem. He passed by them with more ease than most; typically men who entered the Sultana's sanctum found themselves immensely distracted by the scantily clad beauties within. It was a fine way for the beautiful Queen assess her visitors.

Suddenly the Magician stopped, just more than half way through the room. His eyes were locked on one young woman's so intently, the Sultana herself was mesmerized by the trance that seemed to come over the girl. When the Magician offered his gloved hand, the girl rose without word and rested her hand on the air just above his, never once touching the glove. Without breaking her gaze, the man walked back through the harem to the center of the room before the Sultana, the young woman following his hand.

He addressed the woman without moving his lips. "You are Sara Khan, are you not?"

The young woman nodded without removing her gaze or saying a word. "Sara, I know something about you no one here knows. May I tell them?"

Again the woman nodded blankly. The Magician turned to address the Sultana. "Your Highness, I have seen into this woman's heart and I have learned that she has a most beautiful singing voice, one that would surpass any in Persia. She does not even know it herself, but if I tell her to she will sing for you. Would you like to hear?"

The Sultana scoffed, but waved her hand or the man to continue.

Erik guided the woman in front of him as though she were a puppet on a string, straightening her posture without a single touch before coming to her side. When he breathed in deep, the woman did the same, and when the man drew out his hand from his chest the woman's mouth opened and out came a clear, perfect tone. The sound was as perfect as the ring of crystal, and the timbre as pleasing as any angel's would be. The note seemed to last for hours, yet not long enough before cascading into a river over other notes and tones almost too perfect to be sung by the human throat. There were no words to the melody, only a single vowel that changed as though by the Magician's own hand as his fingers fluttered through the notes coming from the woman's mouth.

Down and up again the sound soared, ending finally in another long, clear note higher and more perfect than the first before suddenly the young woman collapsed, something the Magician did not anticipate.

None but the most trained eyes could have sensed the panic that filled the man for a brief moment as the lithe little beauty slipped like a rag doll into his arms, but how trained the Sultana's eyes were in detecting even trace weaknesses.

The woman smiled venomously. "Very well done, Magician. You are dismissed."


	2. Chapter 2

"Is she dead?"

"No, she's only fainted. See, she's stirring now. Are you awake, Little Sister?"

The voice of her eight year old nephew and his father roused Sara Khan from her faint. The heaviness in her head was far less pleasant than the dream she had been having. "Nadir? What happened?"

"You fainted during the Magician's audience with the Sultana," the Daroga explained, helping the young woman to sit up and offering her a glass of water. "You were pretty well asleep, even smelling salts weren't working."

Sara accepted the glass and drank from it deeply, a small furrow in her brow as she tried to recall what had happened to make her faint. "I remember he came in… I don't think I'll ever forget it. Have you seen the way he moves? It's fascinating to watch, like a wild animal. At any rate, he came in and spoke without ever opening his mouth, and threw his voice to the Sultana's side. She was delighted by it and ordered that he use one of us-" the woman trailed off as the memories faded.

"I chose you," rang a new, hauntingly familiar voice as clear and rich as a bell. Sara's eyes darted to the door where the masked man stood with his arms clasped behind his back. His eyes seemed to inspect her for a moment, though not in the way she was accustomed; rather than admiring her form in her harem garbs, the man seemed to be checking for injuries. When he noticed her watching, their eyes locked for a moment before the masked man addressed the Daroga. "It was the same trick you saw me perform with the lilies. I've never tried it on a person before, but I did not expect she would faint. It won't happen again."

The remorse in the man's voice surprised Nadir with its honesty. "It's alright, Erik. All's well that ends well."

The masked man bowed his head and tried to dismiss himself when a tug at the sleeves of his shirt caused him to pause. Nadir's son was small for his age with frail, thin limbs and an awkward stance. There was a small curve to his back that suggested further troubles were on the horizon for the boy, and Erik fought hard not to frown.

"Are you really a magician?" The boy asked, his voice stronger than his frail body would suggest.

"Reza, don't bother our guest –" Nadir began, but Erik held up his hand.

"It's alright, Daroga. Curiosity is healthy. I'm no more or less a magician than you are, little prince," Erik explained, and the boy tipped his head.

"But I'm not a magician."

"I respectfully disagree," Erik said formally. "I'll bet you could do magic right now. Shall we try?"

Every bit his father's son, the boy regarded Erik skeptically before nodding his agreement. Erik dug into the pockets of his rob and withdrew a small rock no larger than a coin. "Hold out your hand," he directed, and when the boy agreed his placed the rock in Reza's palm. "Now, close your fingers around the rock like so and think very, very hard about what you would like most for it to become. Keep in mind it must still be able to fit in your hand. If you imagine a horse it might carry you off and then what would your father think of me?"

Reza laughed and closed his hand and eyes tightly to imagine what the rock would become. Erik let the boy think for a moment before clasping his hand over the boy's to gain his attention. "Have you got it in your mind's eye? Very good. Now, blow on your hand, _et voila_," Erik said, watching with amusement as the boy blew onto his hand and uncurled his fingers to reveal a cube of sugar with a look of shock. "Magic."

"A sweet! How did I do that?" The boy demanded, and Erik chuckled. "Can you teach me another one?"

"That is quite enough for today," The Daroga said, "Thank Erik and go to bed, it's getting late."

"But Father!"

Erik interjected. "Listen to your father, little prince. Magic can wait."

Reza sighed in defeat and moved to bid his father goodnight before finding his way to Sara's side, taking her hand and allowing her to guide him out of the room. As she left, a glance over her shoulder back at the masked man with a curious look that immediately made the man look away.

As soon as his family was out of hearing, Nadir removed his cap and ran a hand over his head. "Well?"

The Magician tipped his head some, a sure sign of misunderstanding. Nadir continued, quietly pleased he had been able to interpret this gesture. "What do you make of Reza? You seemed interested in his illness when we met."

With a quiet glance towards where the boy had gone, Erik spoke. "Do you want my honest opinion?"

"It can't be any worse than the physicians'," admitted the Daroga.

It was a long moment before Erik broke the silence. "I've never seen it before, but if experience has taught me anything, it is this," he said somberly before looking back at the Daroga. "Where there is life, there is hope."

* * *

The Magician made for a decidedly odd houseguest. He stayed in his room for hours at a time, rarely taking meals even though he was offered the choicest of cuisine. There were times Sara was certain she had seen him enter his room in the morning, only to see him enter again just before evening. How had he left without anyone noticing? What was it he did all day when not entertaining the Sultana? This was a strange land for him; how was he so comfortable, so princely in a place he barely knew?

It was as though the man felt the world was his to roam, and everyone around him populated his kingdom only by his will.

Erik had vanished one day, as he was wont to doing for hours on end. Nadir was out on business, and with Reza occupied with his studies Sara was left tending to the duties of her late sister-in-law. She missed Sanas terribly some days, more than her brother knew. It wasn't always for reasons her peers often asked her about; Sara truly did not mind the housework and caring for her frail and crippled nephew. She did not mind putting off marriage to help her brother manage his life as a wife might.

Sanas had been her best friend, the older sister Sara had never had. The woman was kind beyond reason and graceful in ways Sara could only hope to achieve. She never would have fainted in front of the Sultana because of some silly magic trick! She would never allow herself to be so damnably curious about a houseguest who clearly wanted nothing to do with anyone.

The door to Erik's room was open one afternoon as Sara tidied the apartments she shared with her brother. Curious, she peered into the room and stepped inside when she found it to be empty. Well, at least the man tidied up after himself. Weeks of neglecting the guest room had not done it much harm at all; the Magician had few belongings, many of which appeared to still be packed in the saddle bags leaned neatly beside the writing desk.

The only thing unpacked were some papers spread across the desk. Curious, Sara ventured forward and thumbed through the pages. What she found was astonishing – page after page of charcoal skeletons of buildings, arching bridges, and towering cathedrals.

"Women are so damnably curious," rang a voice from behind her, causing Sara to start and turn to face the Magician guiltily.

"I'm sorry, Sir. The door was open and I thought I would clean –"

Unfurling himself from the doorframe, the man moved further into the room. It was all Sara could do to stay put; instinct told her to keep as much space between herself and the masked man as possible, but decency demanded otherwise.

"I certainly hope you didn't try and clean the paper," the Magician mused, glancing through the pages as though to check that the sketches were still present.

Sara relaxed some; so he wasn't angry! "No, no of course not. Did you draw those?"

"No, I collect poor architectural designs on cheap parchment for a hobby," Erik drolled before glancing back at Sara somewhat guiltily. "Yes, I drew them."

"I don't think they're poor at all," Sara defended as the man gathered his papers.

"I would not have taken you for a student of architecture. Do you get a lot of studying done cleaning house?"

Sara pursed her lips at the quip. "I may not know architecture, but I know beauty when I see it. Did _you_ study architecture?"

"Among other things," The Magician admitted cryptically, leaning against the writing table with his arms folded now that his sketches were safely away.

"What brought you into magic, then? Isn't architecture a more lucrative field?"

Erik was quiet for a long while, thoughtfully considering whether to answer. "A fair question," he decided finally. "Architecture would be more lucrative were I an ordinary man. As it is, I've had better luck charging for performances and picking pockets than I ever will designing and building."

This made Sara frown some; she had expected that the masked man simply enjoyed art of magic more than the science of architecture. Never would she have guessed he felt he had no other option. "You would prefer to be an architect then?"

The Magician laughed humorlessly. "The blessed are so ignorant. You people imagine the lives of the vagrant are free, romantic even. Someone who has never been cold, soaked to the bone and starving can only imagine how exciting it must be. Never once do they imagine their ordinary little lives could be envied by anyone so untamed. Yes, I would have preferred to be an architect, or a contractor, even a day laborer if it meant I could have the life that comes with it."

The young woman's frown deepened. "I didn't mean it like that. I just don't understand why you don't pursue it if it is what you would prefer. My brother is the same way, you know. He could be so much more than he is if he would only fight for it, but he's content being Daroga."

"You would prefer your brother lounge around and waste his life like the other Princes of Persia?" Erik dismissed.

"Not at all," Sara protested, glancing around her in such a way that piqued Erik's curiosity. Her voice was lower when she spoke again. "Nadir could be Sultan. He _should_ be Sultan, but the Sultana has an iron grip over the entire province. The witch rules Mazandaran mercilessly, and all my brother does is keep the peace for her."

Erik inspected her firmly. "You're serious."

"Very. It pains me to see men like you and him turn down what you were born to be because the path is too difficult," Sara admitted. "Maybe an architect isn't what you were meant to be; I hardly know you, what can I say? But I doubt you were meant to spend your life as one of the vagrant, as you call yourself."

"This coming from a woman who is content to cook and clean house in between days of sitting pretty beside her witch of a Sultana," Erik countered harshly before walking past his hostess.

Sara paled and turned to watch him as he left. "I beg you, Sir, do not repeat what I told you about my brother. The Sultana –"

"Your secret is safe with me," Erik promised. "But I would advise you look in your own heart before passing judgment on myself, or your brother."

With that the man vanished, the door to the apartment closing behind him as he left to spend his day in solitude. The frown that had taken over Sara's face deepened as she sank onto the edge of the bed to reflect.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Sorry this took so long! I completely rewrote it twice. I'm not thrilled with it but it puts me more in the direction I want to go than the other two chapters did.

* * *

The weather in Mazanderan was beautiful in the fall. The cool port air made the sun's heat bearable, even pleasant as summer's scorching heat faded into winter. Gardens in Mazanderan rivaled the mythical hanging gardens of Babylon, blooming again in the spring-like dawn of autumn. Without doubt the most beautiful garden in the city was the one residing in the expansive palace courtyard.

Having traveled the world over, Erik could still think of no place more beautiful. The Sultana had begun holding court in one of the numerous gazebos, providing Erik a more challenging setting to perform his art. The Magician genuinely enjoyed the challenge; it managed to both stimulate his creativity as well as earn him lavish praise from the fascinating if volatile Queen.

The weather also provided Erik ample excuse to explore the gardens' many secrets, an unexpected surprise. The entire courtyard was a puzzle, cleverly pieced together with trick pedestals and passage ways leading to storage spaces or into the main building of the palace itself. Some of the mechanisms were so ancient it took a considerable amount of coaxing to move, clearly long forgotten and neglected. It was one such mechanism Erik was repairing when Sara spotted him as she strolled with little Reza through the gardens.

"Erik!" The boy exclaimed with delight, hobbling towards the masked man where he stood fussing with a Grecian column.

"Petit Prince, vous semblez être en bonne santé aujourd'hui."

"Je vous remercie, Monsieur. Je ne me sens pas bien," Reza answered deliberately, causing his aunt to glance down at the boy in surprise while he embraced the Magician.

Sara wasn't sure what she found more surprising, the strange language the two spoke or the way Erik had crouched to embrace the boy. So many people found the child uncomfortable to be around with his small stature and awkward gait; why should this aloof man be any different?

Reza grinned smugly up at Sara. "Erik is teaching me French," he boasted as Erik stood again.

"Is that so? When has all this been going on?"

"After Reza is done with the studies you've assigned him," Erik promised. "He has a sharp mind and was getting bored. French is a quite different language than Farsi, I thought it would make a nice challenge."

"It's _hard_," Reza agreed, and Erik chuckled.

"You're doing quite well at it, Little Prince," the masked man promised, smiling down at the boy. "I wonder if you could do me a small favor? I have a suspicion this column is hollow, and I've found a crack but I can't pry it open. Could you go back to the apartment and fetch me a knife? Be very careful returning it," the man added as Reza eagerly jumped up to obey.

Sara moved to follow the boy but Erik quickly stopped her. "Let him go on his own. The exercise will do him good and I wish to speak with you."

After glancing over her shoulder after Reza hesitantly, Sara nodded. "I suppose it's alright. What did you want to talk about?"

"Several things. First of all, I wanted to apologize for my attitude the last time we spoke."

Sara blinked some. "You're apologizing to _me?_ I've been meaning to apologize to _you_. I was terribly rude –"

"You were terribly honest, there is no reason to apologize for that," Erik promised. "I've given some thought to what you said, and I wanted to ask if you truly believe it would be worth pursuing architecture."

The young woman sat on a bench besides Erik and paused thoughtfully. "I honestly don't know a thing about architecture, but I thought your drawings were beautiful. I think if it brings you happiness you should of course pursue it."

"What brings _you_ happiness?" Erik asked suddenly, taking Sara by surprise.

"Well… I don't know. Why do you ask?"

"Studying people is a hobby of mine. Normally they are easy to read, but I've seen you every day since I arrived in Mazanderan and have been able to deduce very little," the masked man explained, leaning against the column to study her.

"You've been watching me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," the man dismissed, and Sara found her heart sinking some. "Very little escapes my notice."

Sara leaned back on her hands, stretching back her shoulders. "Well then, before I answer what _have_ you noticed about me? I'd hate to bore you with something you already know."

The speed with which Erik diverted his gaze did not go unnoticed. "You love Reza like a son, even though you're only ten years or so his senior. You serve the Sultana with great reluctance, but it's not only because you think your brother should be Sultan. There is something between you and her that makes you very uncomfortable, even trapped. Everyone in the harem finds you likeable, but you aren't particularly close with any of them. If I had to guess, I would say Reza is the only person in this city who knows you well at all, including your own brother. You also wear white often, but with striking colors to counter it. I would guess it is your favorite color."

The woman had to laugh. "Do you gather that much from everyone you see? That's remarkable. But you're wrong about my favorite color. The Sultana has me wear white to advertise my virginity to any possible suitors. I much prefer black, actually."

"You haven't answered my question," the masked man pointed out. "Not that I'm not fascinated by your virginity," he added, causing Sara to flush.

Again the woman laughed. "Fine, fine. But you're going to laugh."

"I will do no such thing," Erik promised. "A person's happiness is a very serious matter. Not many people are able to achieve it."

"…I love music. I even love to sing, but no one in the palace knows that. At least, they didn't until you came along," Sara teased. "I never sing in front of people."

"A lucky guess on my part," Erik mused. "Sing something for me."

"You've heard me sing," the woman countered, flushing.

"No, I've heard myself sing. Not a word came out of your mouth that day. I'd like to hear."

"I'm no good," Sara promised, her hands over her heart. "Really, if you would like to hear someone sing, I can introduce you to –"

"I want to hear _you_ sing," the masked man insisted, unfurling from the column.

Erik's gaze made fighting impossible. "…Alright. But you can't look at me while I do," she insisted. When the masked man laughed Sara folded her arms and pouted.

"Very well," Erik laughed, turning around to face his back to her. "Happy?"

"Not really, no," Sara admitted, and the man laughed again. It was a beautiful sound, like deep bells on the wind that sent a jolt up the young woman's spine. After a deep breath, Sara summoned her courage and began to sing a lullaby her nephew enjoyed with her eyes closed tight.

"_A flower was lost and the thorn remained__  
__A lot of oppression remained for me__  
__A baby remained for me__  
__This is my mate's memorial."_

When Sara managed to open an eye, Erik had turned to face her once again. Damn that mask! How was anyone supposed to tell what was going on in the man's head when the bulk of his face was covered by leather? "You weren't supposed to look," the woman complained, all too eager to break the silence that had fallen since the end of the lullaby.

"I apologize. I couldn't help myself," the Magician explained. "Your voice is… raw. Uncultured and untrained, but marvelous."

The man's praise made Sara's heart skip. "You should hear Anousheh sing. She has the most beautiful voice I've ever heard."

"You have a natural gift," Erik promised, his eyes fixated on hers for such a long moment Sara had to look away.

"…Thank you. That's kind of you to say."

"Why don't you sing for people more often?"

Sara considered this for a moment. "Music is so personal, especially when it's sung don't you think? You were right about me. I'm not really close with very many people outside my family, certainly not close enough to sing for them."

"I found a knife," Reza announced suddenly, making his way over to the pair and looking somewhat exhausted but steady and smiling.

"Wonderful," Erik praised, allowing the boy to come all the way to his side rather than meeting him to make his journey shorter. He accepted the knife and moved back to face the column, taking a hand Sara noticed for the first time was ungloved and expecting the stone with long, pale fingers. All at once he froze over a spot in the stone and inserted the knife with incredible precision, opening up a crack in the column surely no ordinary eye could have spotted.

Once the crack was wide enough, Erik inserted his fingers and pried at the newly created opening, pulling it into a recess in the adjoining column wall. Reza was quick to help and began to pull alongside the Magician until a small clicking sound was heard and the stone would move no more.

"_Wow_," the boy breathed, leaning his head into the column and over a deep hole inside.

"Reza be careful," Sara warned even as Erik held his hand in front of the boy to prevent him from falling in.

The boy could not have cared less. "What's it for? How deep do you think it is?"

"I can only imagine it was an escape route for the royals at some point. There are a few others like it scattered throughout the palace and the grounds," he explained, reaching into his pocket to pull out a matchbook and striking one of the odorous sticks against the side before dropping it in. The match revealed a thin ladder along the side of the tunnel before it rested and eventually distinguished on the dirt floor below. "I'd guess nearly twenty feet," the Magician decided once the match was on the ground."

Sara could not help but peer over the boy into the hole herself. "Where do you think it leads?"

"There's only one way to find out," Erik reasoned, slipping his hands back into the soft black gloves Sara was more familiar with him wearing before approaching the side of the hole. In a whirl of black fabric the Magician had grabbed onto the side of the ladder and slid down into the darkness without so much as touching a single wrung.

Little Reza gasped. "Erik! Are you okay?"

A match flashed to life from down below, illuminating the dark figure within the tunnel. "I'm fine. There should be a latch at the bottom of the opening, spring press it and it should close the opening again."

"I want to come too!" Reza protested, already preparing to descend the latter on his own when Erik protested.

"Ask your aunt," the man demanded, stopping Reza in his tracks. To Sara's enormous surprise, the boy turned to her and spoke.

"Please may I go, Aunt Sara?"

While Reza was a sweet boy, this was entirely unlike him. Most often when he wanted something, he acted first and asked for permission later, if at all. For him to not only listen to Erik the first time he was asked, but to obey and in turn ask for permission? How could she refuse?

"…Only if I go with you," Sara conceded. "I want to carry you down. Climb on my back."

Reza did as he was asked, hopping onto the young woman's back with some effort although it took no effort to carry the frail child at all. Carefully she reached the ladder and began her descent, grateful when her feet finally touched the ground.

In the time it had taken Sara to reach the bottom of the pit, Erik had already vanished. She frowned and was about to call for him when a light blazed several feet away, illuminating the masked man now holding an old torch. He approached Sara with Reza still on her shoulders and pressed the torch into her hands wordlessly before ascending the ladder to close the opening in the column, eliminating the light from above and suddenly making Sara feel incredibly claustrophobic. "Why did you have to close it?"

"A secret passage isn't very useful if everyone knows about it," Erik pointed out, sliding back down the ladder once more while Reza nodded his agreement.

"This way it's our secret! Good idea, Erik."

"Thank you, Little Prince," Erik said, taking up the torch. "Are you alright carrying him or would you like to trade?"

"If he would eat more of his supper I would trade," Sara said, reaching behind her to tickle the boy's sides. Even as the boy squealed with laughter, Erik noticed the somber look on his aunt's face and understood she was quite serious.

He decided to change the subject and gestured to the walls. "This tunnel has been used before. Do you see how many of the torches are already burnt?"

"What made you decide to look for places like this anyway?" Sara asked.

"I stumbled across one on accident, not as elaborate as this one. I can't help but admire whoever built them. I'm going to include passages like this in the next building I design," he admitted.

"You could make even better ones, I'll bet," Reza. "Aunt Sara says you draw the prettiest buildings in the world."

Erik chuckled and glanced back at the woman carrying the boy. "She flatters. But I wonder if you're heard her sing? You know your aunt Sara has a beautiful voice."

"You weren't supposed to tell anyone!"

"You weren't supposed to be telling anyone about my sketches," Erik countered with something of a smirk.

"Well the joke's on you; Reza hears me sing all the time. He like lullabies especially, don't you Reza?"

The boy nodded, resting his chin on Sara's shoulder while she carried him. "Do you know any lullabies from where you grew up?" he asked Erik, and the man hesitated.

"I wouldn't say they are from when I was young, but I do know some in my native language."

"Let's hear one then," Sara announced as the man stopped to take a fresh torch and light it with the dimming one he already carried.

Again the man hesitated, but before long he opened his mouth and began to sing.

"_Nous n'irons plus au bois,__  
__Les lauriers sont coupés.__  
__La belle que voilà,__  
__La laiss'rons nous danser?_

_Entrez dans la danse,__  
__Voyez comme on danse,__  
__Sautez, dansez,__  
__Embrassez qui vous voudrez._

_La belle que voilà,__  
__La laiss'rons nous danser?__  
__Et les lauriers du bois,__  
__Les laiss'rons nous faner?"_

Sara was left in stunned silence at the beauty of the man's voice. Her pace had slowed considerably, and Erik turned to look at her, noticing first the boy on her back. "It looks like your charge fell asleep," he noted, his voice considerably stiffer than it had been moments ago during his song.

"You let me sing for you when you have a voice like that? I feel like a fool," Sara admitted quickening her pace to keep up with the taller man.

"You shouldn't. Your voice is splendid; mine is unholy. Here's the exit," the man announced, coming to the end of their pathway with a handle upon stone. Placing the torch in an iron holder, the man grabbed hold of the handle and with all his weight pulled the stone open. Before them was a hallway Sara recognized immediately.

"Allah! We're right outside the apartment! What are the odds?"

"Slim," Erik admitted, stepping out of the passageway and peering down the hall; sure enough, the entrance to the Khan apartment was just to the left of the passage. "What was this part of the palace used for before your family took it over?"

"I'm not sure," Sara frowned thoughtfully as Erik pulled the heavy stone closed behind them and dusted off his gloves. "Our parents died when I was young. I'll ask Nadir, they might have told him something. Erik?"

The Magician stopped in place and turned to face the young woman with what could have been a curious look behind the mask. "I had a good time today," admitted, adjusting the sleeping boy on her back. "Friends?"

Erik regarded the woman for a long moment before nodding and opening the apartment door to let them inside. "Friends."


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Erik came thundering into the apartment like a bat out of hell. "Where is your bitch of a sister?" he demanded of Nadir where he sat hunched over a writing desk in the sitting room.

The Daroga sat bolt upright. "You will watch your tongue in this house or I will have it removed! What has gotten into you?"

Sara peered into the room, he blood chilled by the man's voice. She had seen him only an hour before when he had been called to entertain the Sultana and he had not been so furious! "I'm here," she ventured timidly. "What's wrong?"

Catching sight of her, Erik stalked forward so ferociously the young woman could not help but back away into the wall behind her. "'Friends' you called us! I should have known better than to fall for that little trick. Damn you to hell!"

The woman could not fight the tears forming in her eyes. "What did I do?"

"Come away, Erik," Nadir commanded, clasping the taller man's shoulder only to find himself the victim of the next assault when Erik whirled upon him with a growl, one hand in his pocket over Allah could only guess what weapon.

"Stand down, Daroga. This is between me and the woman."

"That woman happens to be my sister, in case you have forgotten - any business of hers is business of mine. I much preferred you when you snuck around like a rodent," Nadir added hand over his gun in case the situation escalated.

With an eye roll so pointed it could be seen from behind the mask, Erik turned back on his intended prey. "Don't play the fool. What is she paying you? Or do you do it purely out of pleasure?"

A brow furrowed over tearful eyes. "I don't know what you mean."

Erik raised a hand as if to strike the woman, and she turned into the wall to protect herself even as Nadir caught the man's wrist and dragged him back and towards the door. "Get out of my home!"

"What am I worth to you, hm? What is the price you've put on my privacy, on my freedom?" Erik bellowed past the Daroga, ripping his arm free with minimal effort and standing firm.

"Erik, I swear I don't know what you're talking about," Sara promised tearfully, flinching again the moment Erik moved toward. The tall man only made it one step before Nadir was between them, gun raised.

"Stand down, Magician."

Again, the Daroga was ignored although Erik did stop his advance. "I want to know what she is paying you to spy on me."

"Spy on you?" Sara asked, confused.

Nadir himself was so taken aback he lowered the gun. "What makes you think my sister is spying on you?"

"The Sultana knows things about me I certainly haven't told her. I caught your sister snooping around my room but decided it was simple female curiosity. How damnably wrong I was!"

The Daroga couldn't help but laugh. "Erik, Sara loathes the Sultana."

Sara nodded to emphasize her brother's point. "I don't spend a moment more in her presence than I have to, I would certainly never spy for her."

"Money is a powerful motivator," Erik insisted, but Nadir gestured around them.

"Does it look like we are a family in need of money, Magician? Your paranoia is completely misplaced."

"Then explain to me how the Sultana knows about the sketches you found," Erik countered, addressing Sara. "I certainly can't."

The woman frowned thoughtfully. "I don't know..."

In a sudden burst of movement, Nadir returned to his desk and rummaged for a blank piece of parchment, confusing both his sister and their houseguest. After a brief moment of frantic writing, he held up the parchment for both of them to see. _I know what happened, but cannot say here._ "I'll ask Reza if he's been in your room," the Daroga said aloud. "Maybe he told one of his friends and someone else overheard. I'm sure no harm has come from it. Sara, why don't you and I go to the market and find some European wine for our guest to make up for this misunderstanding?"

With a raised brow, Sara nodded, "That sounds like a grand idea. Lord Magician, I will speak to Reza myself and get to the bottom of this."

As she spoke, Nadir again wrote on the parchment and showed it to Erik. _Wait ten minutes and then join us in the market, I will explain everything there_.

"Thank you both," Erik said, his voice a perfect blend of annoyed frustration and relief. "Don't be too hard on the boy if it was an innocent mistake."

Sara and her brother left then, and at Nadir's request Erik was quick to follow. The pair was easy enough to find, with Nadir browsing through a selection of imported wine at one booth while Sara stood nearby with a distracted and distant look on her face. When she spotted him approaching, she grabbed Nadir's arm to gather his attention. Quickly the man made his selection and joined Erik to walk through the crowded bazaar.

"It is a blessing you discovered that passage," Nadir explained, keeping his voice low. "I would not have thought of this had Sara not asked me about it just this morning."

"Thought of what?"

"Our apartments were used as a political prison of sorts. A gilded cage," Sara explained, her face etched with concern. "That's how our family ended up in them. It was easier to keep our ancestors under close watch than to kill them and risk creating martyrs to their cause."

"And now us, it seems. I'm not sure of this, but I would imagine there are ways the Sultana and her people could eavesdrop on anything happening inside our apartments," Nadir added.

A wave of realization washed over Erik as he considered what the man was claiming. "If the Sultana or her men have been spying on you still, she's heard far more than just that I sketch buildings. Sara-"

The woman nodded numbly. "She'll have heard me tell you about our family and how I feel about Nadir. I've ruined everything."

"Our history is no secret," Nadir reassured. "The royal family can ignore it all they want, but that doesn't change our blood. You made no outrageous claims."

"We just announced Sara's feelings for the Sultana in the apartment," Erik pointed out. The Daroga and his sister fell quiet.

"It's possible no one heard. It makes no sense for them to monitor us all the time," the Daroga reasoned. "It's been several generations since anything remotely revolutionary has happened, and I've been nothing but loyal, as has Sara."

"Why was she listening in on us at all, then?" Sara asked suddenly. "What are the odds she just happened to overhear Erik and I talking in his room if she's not listening all the time?"

"She's curious about her new plaything," Nadir said confidently. "It's him she was spying on, not us."

Erik nodded his agreement. "The woman has been trying to get me to divulge myself from the first day I arrived. She has a bizarre fascination with the macabre; I'm sure she expected me to confirm the stories she's heard about my past, my face. Don't fret until we know more."

Sara lowered her eyes and said nothing more on the subject.

* * *

Sleep was elusive that night. Sara spent hours staring at the ceiling, listening to the cicadas outside. Were they louder tonight than usual? Did they normally stop so often, or was something there startling them into silence?

Every bump in the night was suddenly a threat. Every crying cat was little Reza gasping for breath down the hall through his tears. The very thought made it all the harder to sleep. Would the Sultana hurt Reza to reprimand her for her words? Surely not even the Sultana could stoop so low; she was still a woman after all. The thought of a woman harming a child was completely absurd… wasn't it?

Giving up on sleep, Sara wrapped herself in a silk robe and slipped her feet in lambskin slippers to ward off the chill that had taken over the apartment. She would just check in on Reza for a moment, and sleep would be easier –

Opening the door, the young woman all but walked into the hunched over figure of the Magician outside her door. She yelped in her surprise before covering her mouth and laughing nervously. "Oh I'm so sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone to be out here. I didn't startle you did I?"

"Not as much as I appear to have startled you," Erik promised, unfurling to his full height and cupping a small box in his hands.

Sara spotted it and glanced up at the man with a raised brow. He did not wait for her to ask to explain, somewhat uncomfortably. "I was going to leave this for you. It's an apology for the way I treated you today."

"You didn't have to-"

"I'm not very good at apologies," Erik interrupted. "I receive them very rarely and give them even less, so please take it."

When Erik held out the small box, Sara accepted it and cradled it in her own hands. It was pitch black, a very fine quality ebony with intricate floral carvings weaving their way over the lid and sides. The lip of the lid extended slightly over the sides of the box, and Sara carefully lifted the lid to inspect the inside. A small gold key on an even more delicate gold chain lie curled within the velvet-lined interior, though puzzlingly the void in the box was far smaller than she imagined. Was there a hidden compartment?

"There's a mechanism in the back for the key," Erik explained, and Sara turned the box to run her finger over a small opening in the back outlined with a thin line of gold. She inserted the key on its chain into the lock, and began to turn. To her surprise, a small clicking sound continued well past the point she would have expected the lock to give way.

Finally the key would turn no more, and Sara released the key meaning to see what she had unlocked. To her surprise, the key began to turn counter to the way she had unlocked it on its own, shortly followed by a small, intricate sound.

Music. The box was playing music, a small but stunning melody far different than the music so often heard in Mazandaran. It played and played of its own accord, until after nearly a minute it stopped of its own accord just as it had begun.

"Where did you find something like this?" Sara asked, stunned and quiet. "I've never seen anything like it."

"They're not uncommon in the west."

"Surely you haven't been traveling with this? It's in perfect condition," Sara reasoned, and Erik chuckled some.

"No, I've made a few others like it to pass the time but sold them all. It's difficult to travel with such a luxury, you're right."

"Wait, you _made_ this?"

Erik nodded. "Yes. I found the materials for it earlier today in the marketplace. The ebony here is such splendid quality; I've never worked with anything like it."

"You put all this together just today?"

The man nodded, looking self-conscious. How was she so sure that was what he was feeling with his face covered? "It's beautiful," she promised, removing the key from the back to place it back inside the box.

"Why are you up so late? I didn't wake you did I?"

Suddenly remembering her late-night errand, Sara glanced around the man to a door down the hall. "I was going to check on Reza is all. It seems silly now…"

"It makes perfect sense after everything that happened today. I'll go with you. Now that you've mentioned it I won't be able to sleep until I've seen him either."

Erik gestured for her to pass him before joining her in her walk. "Why are you so interested in Reza? You have no relation to him, no investment in him or in us, but I see the way you are with him. You could be his father, the way you are with him."

"I doubt that; I'm not much older than you are, and you are far too young to be mothering him the way you do," Erik pointed out before growing quiet for a moment. "I see a lot of myself in him is all."

Sara tipped her head curiously, and with some hesitation the man elaborated. "I was born sick, like him. My illness was more immediately apparent than his, but as he becomes more ill the world will continue to push him away and hold him at arm's length simply because he looks different. He's smart and curious, he could do great things if the world would only let him."

"Like you?" Sara ventured, and Erik lowered his eyes with a tight jaw.

"Yes. Like me."

Seeing that Erik was uncomfortable, Sara moved in front of him to let herself into Reza's room. The boy stirred as soon as the door cracked open, rolling onto his belly to shield his eyes from the soft light outside.

Erik stood behind Sara, peering over her into the room. "Seems he's alright. Goodnight."

The Magician turned and returned to his rooms, leaving Sara standing in her nephew's doorway with the small music box in her hand. "Goodnight, Erik."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **Kind of a short one, sorry about that! It was either this length or waaaaay too long. I'd rather continue in another chapter.

* * *

"Sit and stay a while, Magician. There are matters you and I should discuss."

The harem girls were leaving after a successful magic performance by the Sultana's latest pet when she stopped the man from following. Heart dropping into her stomach, Sara could not help but glance over her shoulder at Erik, who must have had the same thought she did –

The Sultana knew everything.

The crowd of a dozen or so women swept Sara away with it, and Erik was soon left alone with the beautiful queen. Even the eunuchs who acted as the woman's guards did not stay long, choosing instead to wait outside the door of the receiving room where the performance had taken place. This never before seen display put the Magician even more on edge; in no situation was it appropriate for the married queen to be alone with a virulent man.

"What do you require, Your Highness?" Erik asked, eager to be through with whatever she wished to speak to him of but careful not to show as much.

"Sit," the woman insisted again, gesturing to a cushion beside her. "I want to discuss these drawings I've heard about."

With cat-like grace, Erik stepped forward and sat where bade. To the Sultana's quiet enjoyment, he held himself well for a man of such impressive height. She inched toward the man, resting a hand on his knee and locking on his eyes with a small pout. "I know we've spoken about this before, but I simply can't get the subject off my mind. I must admit – I was terribly hurt to hear you were keeping secrets from me."

"I am a man of many secrets, Your Highness."

"Secrets like this are going to get you taken away from me," the Sultana explained, running her hand now from his knee up his thigh. Erik was torn between pulling away and staying… both were dangerous options in their own right. To leave meant offending the woman who had certain power over the family he had come to respect and the most comfortable lifestyle he'd enjoyed in years. To stay… to stay meant a powerplay Erik was not certain he had the willpower to win.

"My husband wants to see your drawings. Something about a new palace some ways from here," the woman continued. "As the architect you would of course oversee its construction."

"Which would make it impossible for me to perform," Erik concluded, lacing his long and graceful fingers. "If you wish me to deny his request, I shall."

After regarding the man for a moment, the Sultana leaned back. "You would do that for me? Your loyalty is… touching," the woman purred, fingers tracing languidly down her belly. The long, softness of her torso gave way to full and supple breasts, impossible to ignore the way she now sat.

"I am not ignorant in the ways of the world, Your Highness; I know the Sultan ultimately provides my pay, but I also know a man's greatest influence is his woman."

The Sultana grinned devilishly. "Wise words, Erik. You and I are going to have a long and fruitful relationship. But here I thought you would deny simply to remain nearby me. Tell me, do you think me beautiful?" The woman asked suddenly, taking Erik by surprise.

He was careful not to show as much. "I think any man would be lucky to call you his wife," the Magician phrased carefully, an answer the Sultana seemed willing to accept.

"Or mistress," she suggested, and Erik merely shrugged with all power of a panther and the boredom of a housecat.

"Or mistress," he agreed.

"The Sultan is not a good husband to me, my darling Magician," the woman pouted, once again returning her hand to his leg. "He leaves me alone for days, sometimes even weeks on end to fend for myself. He is angry that I have not bared him any children, yet he hasn't staked his claim over me in months. Can you imagine?"

Fortunately for Erik, the question was rhetorical. "Of course, he has other wives who can and have given him children. He has mistresses as well, a woman in every port as the men say. What am I to do here all alone without even a child to keep me company?"

So intoxicated was Erik by the woman's touch and the enticing tone of her words that he did not notice her hands had moved under his shirt to stroke his chest. "It seems wrong to me that my husband can have so many women to keep him company while I should be content with my loneliness."

It was not until the Sultana's lips grazed his own that the spell that had fallen over the Magician shattered. Erik could not, _would_ not be seduced by this woman! To do so meant becoming her puppet, a life he refused to lead. Would he so easily trade his freedom for a warm embrace? And even if he were to become the Sultana's lover, then what? She would discover his true nature eventually; as rare a woman as she was, there was no possibility of obtaining what he truly desired from her, or from any other woman for that matter so long as the reality of his face remained. She could not possibly know what lurked behind the mask only a breath away from her own face.

Quickly Erik stood and dismissed himself, leaving quickly as the Sultana glowered and shouted after him. "You will come to regret this. I know, you, Erik! You and I are more alike than you think!"

* * *

Erik could not remember being so drunk. No, no wait – he had been this drunk once before. It was his birthday, or at least some date close to that his Master had decided to celebrate the occasion on. Their best guess was that he was sixteen, the age a boy becomes man among the masons in Rome. It was a grand occasion, and a seemingly proud one for both Giovanni and his bright young student. Together they drank four bottles of wine, talked about their dreams and wishes, waxed philosophical and discussed the implications of the rapidly evolving world around them well into the night. It was one of Erik's fondest memories, hazy though it was.

Then a Mason-in-training, Erik had woken with a headache so wicked the old man had let him stay in bed for the entire day. He had sworn never to touch wine again after that night, and for a solid year after even the smell had turned his stomach sour.

So much for promises.

Stumbling into the apartments, Erik was far less graceful than usual as he made his way inside fully intending on sleeping through the entire morning and well into the evening. Drinking and sleeping made it almost possible to ignore the all-consuming self loathing that had sunk over him since the Sultana's advances earlier that day.

The door of the master bedroom cracked open, illuminated from the other side by the dim light of an oil lamp. The shadow of a man filled the opening, and in another moment the Daroga appeared, murmuring to himself as he stowed away his gun and knife. "Subhan'Allah, Erik! You're lucky to be so recognizable or I might have killed you."

"You might have tried," Erik countered boastfully, chin held high. "I was a master assassin once, or didn't you know?"

"A Thug, yes I heard the rumors well before you came. You're drunk," the Daroga concluded. "Sit, I'll get you some water and see you off to bed."

"What else did you hear about me?"

"Many things, you know how people are; they love their stories."

"Yes, yes they do. I wish I could say this is the first place I've been where my reputation proceeded me. You yourself are not a gossip," Erik concluded, obeying his host and sitting in one of the plusher chairs of the living quarters and accepting a glass of water when offered.

"I prefer to listen," Nadir explained, sitting in a chair across from the masked man. "I find it is a far more useful skill."

"You saw my face in Azerbaijan," Erik continued. "But you did not warn the Sultana."

This made Nadir's brow raise. "I didn't have to; much of what I know about you I learned from her. She told me once that your face was so horrible they called you the Living Corpse."

"Impossible!" The Magician spat, rising to his feet intimidatingly.

"Calm yourself, the rest of the house is sleeping," Nadir warned. "And you're liable to hurt yourself in your state. Drink your water and go to bed."

"The Sultana kissed me today; she could not possibly have known what is under my mask!"

A new voice greeted them from nearby. "She _kissed_ you?" Sara asked, pulling a blanket around her shoulders to ward off the chill. The furrow in her brow was deep.

"She did," Erik confirmed, returning back to his seat with little refinement. "The woman all but seduced me today when you and the others left, something about being neglected by her husband."

"You don't need me to tell you you're on dangerous ground, Erik," Nadir warned, his jade eyes dark with worry. "The Sultana is a dangerous woman. Everything she does is with a purpose, and rarely is that purpose as obvious as it may seem."

"How did you react?" Sara asked, pulling the blanket tight.

"You mean did I fuck her? No, of course not," Erik spat, and Sara cringed some. The man was instantly remorseful. "I didn't mean-"

"He's drunk, if you hadn't noticed," Nadir explained to his sister, and Sara nodded.

"Let's get you to bed, Erik," the young woman offered with a gentle voice, keeping the blanket around her with one hand and offering the other to Erik to help him to his feet.

The Magician accepted and rose. "I didn't mean to be short with you," he explained. "But why would you ask something like that?"

"I know you didn't," Sara promised steadying him on his feet as they made their way to Erik's room. "It's a delicate situation. If you'd slept with her, the Sultan would have your head. You didn't, and now the Sultana is the one to fear."

"What do you care, though? It isn't your neck in the noose," Erik countered.

"I care because we're friends, remember? It wasn't _your_ 'neck in the noose' when I said those things about the Sultana and we thought she might have heard, but you were worried for me."

"I certainly was not," Erik said proudly, and Nadir laughed from behind them.

"For a man with an intimidating reputation you can be such a child," he offered when the masked man glared back at him. "There's no shame in admitting you care for someone, you know."

Sara interrupted. "I think we need to face the fact that we are all very much involved in one another's wellbeing at this point. What happens to one of us will wind up affecting all of us in some way or another, don't you think?"

"Only time will tell," Erik said sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling off his shoes. "Why do you think she kissed me?"

The young woman studied Erik for a moment as if deciding whether or not to be honest, but Nadir spoke first. "You're don't exactly subject to her, Magician. Your attitude is one of tolerance at best. Her entire life has been spent seducing men more powerful than she is. As long as you exude power, she will be after you."

"She cannot view me as more powerful than the Sultan," Erik reasoned.

"You haven't met the Sultan yet," Sara reminded him, pulling back the blankets on the bed. She refused to say more, nervous to speak at all after they had determined the Sultana could be eavesdropping. Nadir it seemed had far less to worry about.

"Explain to me then how you reason the Daroga here should be king," Erik demanded. "If the Sultan is so weak, why not simply take what is yours?"

"It's not that simple," Nadir said, looking more uncomfortable now at this new turn in conversation. "Go to sleep, Magician. We'll talk in the morning."


	6. Chapter 6

A quiet knock caused Erik to stir, shielding his eyes from the already dim light of the room. "What do you want?" he grumbled, the sound of his own voice sending fire through his skull. Had that terrible sound really come from his own mouth?

Sara peered into the room and made sure to speak quietly. "I've told the Sultana you weren't feeling well today, she's excused you. Do you need anything?"

"A swift bullet to the brain would be nice," the man complained, and Sara found herself giggling.

"I'm sorry. It's really not that funny," she immediately corrected, but Erik waved her off.

"A bit of schadenfreude is natural now and again," Erik promised, and the woman tipped her head. "Schadenfreude. It means pleasure in someone else's pain. Naturally the Germans would invent a word for such a thing," he mused, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck.

Again the woman laughed, moving to bring the pitcher of water she had left in the room the night before closer to him. She poured a glass and handed it to him before sitting on the edge of the bed. "You fell asleep with your mask on," she noted. "You must have slept well."

"I always sleep with it on," Erik explained. "Short of being alone in the wilderness, it's safer that way."

"Safer how?"

Erik took a deep drink from the glass of water before explaining, his eyes never leaving the cup. "You've surely heard the rumors about my face, between your brother the Daroga and your employer the Sultana," the man guessed.

Sara merely shrugged. "I been playing these games long enough to know most rumors are simply that; rumors. They're rarely true and if they are, they are grossly exaggerated versions of the truth."

"Seeing is believing then?"

The woman glanced at him, sincerity and kindness on her face. "I wouldn't ask you to do that unless it is what you wanted. I may not believe the rumors, but I do believe you wear the mask for reasons that are your own. Who am I to ask you to remove it?"

The magician lowered his head and was silent for a long moment. "A good answer," he murmured before stretching out his shoulders and rubbing out the back of his neck once more. "Since you're here, would you mind making a pot of tea from some of the things in my bag while I dress? The one by the desk will do"

"We have tea, you don't have to –"

"This won't be ordinary tea," Erik explained. "I'll direct you, it isn't difficult."

Curious but willing to help, Sara gathered up a bag near his desk and slipped out of the room to put on a pot of hot water. Glancing in the bag, she was overwhelmed at first by the potent and bizarre aromas that arose. A fortune's worth of herbs, spices, teas, and other assorted plant life and substances in small vials were neatly wrapped in protective clothes and labeled in messy western script.

Erik's voice greeted her from just behind her to the right, which surprised her some; surely he couldn't be dressed yet? But when she glanced, her surprise was magnified tenfold. The man was nowhere to be seen! "Is the water boiling yet?"

"How are you doing that?! I can't even see you!"

"I can hear you plenty well, that's all I need to send my voice in your general direction. It's less straining than shouting in my condition," Erik explained, though Sara had the feeling he probably would have thrown his voice even if his head weren't hurting, the show-off. "Is the water boiling?"

"No, but it will be in a moment. What do I add?"

"Two parts willowbark, the bark pieces folded into the cheesecloth near the top of the bag. Then one part mint, which you ought to be able to fish out by smell, and half a cinnamon stick."

Sara obeyed, finding the ingredient and measuring them out by spoonfuls before adding them one by one into the now boiling water. "Blech, the willowbark smells awful. You're not really going to drink this?"

"It tastes alright," Erik promised. "A little earthy, but the mint and cinnamon help. It'll need to simmer for a while, until the tea is red and the bark drops to the bottom of the pan. You can leave it be, I'll pour it when it's ready."

"Are you sure? I can bring it to you when it's done?"

"I'm certain," Erik promised, this time present beside her when he spoke.

"Where did you learn to make something like this?" Sara asked while Erik sat on a stool nearby to tend the pot. She moved instead to a large plate covered with cloth, revealing several pieces of sweetened naan bread and a bowl of honey butter she had saved from breakfast for the Magician.

"I traveled with gypsies when I was younger. Being nomads, they have developed remarkable ways to live off the land, including apothecary. The old woman I observed was the fifth or sixth generation of her kind, and certainly had the practice down to an art," Erik explained, accepting a piece of the bread when offered. "I have a question for you now, something that was bothering me last night. Why is it your brother is thought to be the rightful Sultan? There must be some story there, something an outsider like me couldn't possibly understand. Isn't one born into royalty?"

The woman shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting over her shoulder back into Erik's room. "I really shouldn't be the one to tell you this."

"I'd like to hear it from you. Sara if the Sultana was going to punish you for something she'd heard, she would have done so already. Besides, you've been living here your entire life; have you ever thought you were overheard somewhere so far removed as the kitchen?"

"Well, no… I suppose it's alright. It is just history after all," Sara reasoned, leaning against the counter and wringing her hands some. "Our great, great grandfather was once the Sultan Shah of Persia. Unlike many men with power like his, he had only one bride. They were both young and well respected by their people, and had a son who was expected to one day take over the throne and be just as beloved and kind a ruler. A plague came through the country, killing many including the young Sultana. The Sultan and his son were devastated by the loss, as were many. Mourners came from all over to pay their respects to the queen, including a well-bred woman with a son of her own, whose husband had also died during the plague. Her story touched the Sultan, and her breeding allowed the two to stay in touch through the following spring. One year to the day after the Sultan's wife died, he wed the widow and everything changed. She was a cruel woman, as was her son, but the Sultan did not see it. Around him, she was nothing short of an angel. When the true prince explained to his father the terrible things happening because of the new Sultana's temper, the Sultan dismissed it as jealous lies and the yearning of a boy for his mother."

"The Sultan died not long after his marriage, and being the eldest 'son' her own child became king when the thrown should have gone to the Sultan's boy. This is not unheard of – after all, any qualified man can rule, but this man was not qualified. War raged within the country, crops were destroyed, water tarnished, people killed merely for voicing their concerns. The gains our ancestors made were lost, and the men who made our country great forgotten. We now struggle to survive while the rest of the world advances. Those of us lucky enough to live in the palace flourish while farmers and villagers struggle to make ends meet. My brother and little Reza are the last of the men in that line of great men, the men under whose watch all of Persia was beautiful, not just its palaces."

Allowing Sara to finish her tale, Erik laced his fingers and rested his chin upon them before considering her words and speaking. "How did your great, great grandfather die?"

"No one knows for certain. Some say it was an illness, but others think he was poisoned by the Sultana. Nadir believes he finally believed his son and the Sultana killed him to avoid being killed herself."

"Which story do you believe?"

Sara paused thoughtfully. "I believe he was poisoned, but I cannot say why. Maybe the Sultana wanted to save her own skin, or maybe she was simply ready for her own flesh and blood to be in power. It's been so many years we may never know."

"Why has no one in your family tried to seize control before? By the sound of things, the tyranny did not stop with the man's adopted son. One trip to the bazaar is enough to see that," Erik reasoned.

"Men have tried, but the hold on the throne is tight. The current Sultan's father was a cruel man with many friends in high places helping to keep a watch over things. The man's son, our current Sultan is not very bright, and certainly not mean-spirited; many of us thought the worst of it was over when his father died and he ascended to the throne, until he married the Sultana. She has unimaginable influence on the man."

Erik was thoughtful as he ate, watching the woman without gaining her attention while she picked up the kitchen from the morning's activities. She was beautiful, hourglass in shape with full breasts and delicately curving hips that suited her well. Her legs were long and lean, though she walked with less grace than some of the other women in the harem; although she was trained to seduce as well as the others, Erik guessed it did not come as naturally to the lonely and somewhat shy woman. As lovely as her figure was, her eyes were more remarkable still. Like Nadir's they were the color of jade, and like the stone were filled with unique and subtle intricacies. They were larger than her brother's softer and more feminine with an almond shape she often accentuated with kohl.

She caught him watching her and frowned some, inspecting herself as if to wonder what it was he could possibly be looking at. You damn fool, he thought. She knows she is beautiful; she simply can't fathom someone as wretched as you being arrogant enough to acknowledge it.

Finally he spoke, although his words were not as well suited to take his mind off her as he had hoped. "Why aren't you married?"

When the woman tried to speak, Erik held up a gloved hand to stop her. "I know you're looking after Nadir and Reza. But I want the truth."

The way the man's tawny eyes held hers made it impossible to lie, though she did have to try several times to get the words out. "I… Sanas, my sister-in-law, she loved Nadir so dearly. I never knew my mother, and I never had any sisters of my own. I grew up wanting to be just like her. I can't imagine what she'd think of me if I wound up marrying for anything but love."

"Did she have the luxury of choice?"

"Well, yes and no. Nadir and Sanas eloped without the court's permission. It's the boldest thing Nadir's ever done, and he paid dearly for it but the marriage was kept legal," the young woman explained.

"Will _you_ have the luxury of choice?"

Sara considered this for a long while, drying a cup as she thought. "I'd like to think I would be brave enough to do something like Nadir did in the name of love. Perhaps if I find someone I love fiercely enough, I will have as much of a choice in the matter as he did. But at the end of the day, eloping is as close to a choice as I will come. I am the Sultana's property; whoever she promises me to is who I will marry."

Again Erik met her eyes, though his gaze was more intense this time. "You are no one's property, least of all hers. No man has the right to own another. Remember that."

Surprised by the vigor and passion of his words, the woman nodded and murmured. "I will."

As abruptly as the topic had been brought up, it was over. "I know you told the Sultana I was ill, but I would like to speak with the Sultan. Is that something you can arrange?"

"Yes," Sara nodded, "I know he had wanted to see you about your drawings as it is... you're not going to tell him about what I-"

"Of course not. I want to meet the man for myself. I told the Sultana yesterday I wouldn't construct anything for him, but now I'm not so sure."

* * *

"Erik of Azerbaijan, Her Highness' court Magician."

By the time the Magician was announced, his headache was well under control. He bowed deeply and with a flourish, knowing well the importance of first impressions. "Your Holiness. It is an honor to be in your presence."

"The honor is mine," the Sultan promised, smiling charmingly. He was a younger man than Erik expected, no older than the Daroga and wearing his age well. Soft in his features and with a deep, jovial voice, it was difficult to imagine the man's ancestors were thought of as tyrants. "I was delighted to hear you wished to speak about your drawings. I was worried I'd have to steal them from your apartments after speaking to my wife last night. She expressed your worry about abandoning your current position."

"It is true," Erik admitted. "I concerned about Her Highness. She confided how lonely she gets while Your Holiness is away, and that my performances provide amusement for her to ease her worry and sorrow."

"It is a good deed you do for my dear wife," the Sultan agreed heartily. "But the deed you must do for me will be even greater. You see, once finished the palace I wish will be closer to where I travel frequently, and will allow her to be close to me again."

"If I mask ask, Your Holiness, where is it you wish the palace built?"

"Inland, closer to Tehran. I will give you all the details on the location once you provide me with a design. It has come to my attention you've found several… unique features about this palace, have you not?" The Sultan added in a lower tone.

Erik bowed his head. "I have, and I've been studying them. Would you like such things incorporated into the design?"

"Yes, and better. I trust you can make this so?"

Again Erik bowed. "It was your fortunate accident to find me; I am an excellent architect and a quick study. I will have the designs you request in two weeks. Should you like them, I can have a model made to scale a month after that."

"Cut that time in half and I will make you a wealthy man, Erik of Azerbaijan."

"Consider it done."

* * *

**Author's ****Note:** For those of you who think my story about Nadir's rightful lineage is too far-fetched (and there will be a few of you), I lifted the idea almost directly from historical events some 1800 years prior to when this story takes place. The Roman Emperor Claudius was seduced by his niece, and convinced to leave his wife and blood-heir behind in divorce so that he could marry this new woman who already had a son of her own. Some years later Claudius was assassinated, and his step-son Nero rose to the throne. As most of you know, Nero was not such a great guy and is famously (or infamously) known as the Emperor who "fiddled while Rome burned" as well as using Christians (you read it right folks) for torches in his garden.


	7. Chapter 7

Childlike in his excitement, Erik's enthusiasm was almost contagious when he heard Sara and Erik passing by his room. To their surprise, not only was the door open (it had been closed and locked tight for weeks) but they were invited inside before they could even give a passing greeting.

"Reza, Sara! Come in, I'd like to show you something I've been working on."

After a quick glance around the room and seeing nothing, Reza frowned some. "I thought you were working on a palace. Where is it?"

"It was far too large to finish here, even for a model. I carried it out through the window a few days ago to finish elsewhere, partly because of its size and partly because I was asked never to let anyone see it," Erik explained.

"Even us?" Reza pouted.

"Even you," Erik affirmed, glancing up at Sara somewhat apologetically.

She instantly knew what he had truly meant – Especially them.

To shake the subject off her heart, Sara smiled and smoothed Reza's hair. "What did you want to show us?"

He gestured behind him to a large figure on his desk, covered in a silk handkerchief. "To keep the dust off it more than to hide it," Erik explained when Reza looked unimpressed. "You can take it off, but be very careful. It is fragile."

Venturing forward, little Reza reached out and lifted the fabric from the nearly two foot square figure as carefully as he could manage, having to stand on the chair to do so at his unimpressive height. Before them was a ring of mirrors, although a ring was not quite the correct term. The mirrors were perfectly flat, reflecting a tree in the very center without any sort of distortion at all.

Sara grinned, but Reza tilted his head trying to see what was so impressive about a bunch of mirrors and a false tree. Erik held up a finger for the boy to wait, and carefully lifted a panel out of the mirrors so that when at eye level, one could see inside.

The boy gasped. "There are _hundreds _of trees! An entire forest, like in stories! But how? I can't even see my own reflection on the other side."

"Mirrors are magical things, Reza. Many people think they only show you what is really there, but those people are wrong. With enough manipulation and a little magic, mirrors can show you almost anything you wish to see."

"But he's outside the mirrors. Wouldn't someone inside by the tree be reflected also?"

From elsewhere in the room, Erik produced the figurine of a small ballerina in a resting pose, her feet together and skirts full. With great care he placed her in the room, about three quarters of the way from the mirrored walls towards the tree. From above, Sara could see her figure reflected in some way in nearly all the mirrors, but at eye level Reza laughed with delight.

"I can only see her in the mirrors behind her! How did you do that?"

"Magic," Erik explained, before continuing to address Sara's question. "That is about as close as someone can come and perfectly maintain the illusion. The same way Reza only sees the reflection behind her, she would only see her own reflection once, in whatever mirror she looked directly at until she walked too close to the tree. There are a handful of other points where she might have seen a twin of herself, but no more than that. I plan to put in safeguards close to the tree so the illusion isn't ruined."

"The Sultana is going to love it," Sara promised, but Erik dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

"It isn't for the Sultana."

Sara tilted her head. "Is it part of the new palace?"

"I built it for you. And for you, Reza. Some of my fondest memories were spent alone in forests like this, and there isn't any one like it near here. It's a shame you can't experience it," Erik reasoned.

A smile crept up unbidden on Sara's mouth. "That's… really sweet of you, Erik."

"When do we get to play in it?" Reza demanded, not noticing the quiet glow of pride in his friend's countenance.

"Soon, I hope. As soon as I'm paid commission for the palace I will have the funds for the materials, then I just need to find a place to build."

"There are empty rooms all over the palace," Sara suggested. "I'm sure you could use one of them without anyone noticing."

"A fair suggestion. It reminds me; I won't taking up your spare room much longer. I was promised apartments of my own until construction begins. They're being prepared today."

Reza looked surprised, but Sara only frowned. "You're leaving us?" The boy demanded. "Don't you want to live with us anymore?"

"It isn't proper for me to be living with you. I only was asked to live here so your father could keep an eye on me and make sure I did not run off or rob the palace blind," Erik explained. "I need my own place to live."

"Just because he isn't living with us doesn't mean he won't come visit," Sara explained, glancing at the masked man across from her. "Isn't that right?"

"We'll still be seeing plenty of one another," Erik promised. "I'm not an easy pest to get rid of."

The child seemed reassured by this, tugging on Sara's sleeve. "Can I go ahead to my lessons? Teacher makes me write out sentences when I'm late."

"I'll take you," Sara promised, but Reza shook his head.

"It's alright, I can go myself," Reza insisted, glancing between his friend and aunt far more obviously than he knew.

Sara had to force herself not to laugh or blush. "I suppose that's alright. But if you start to feel weak –"

"I feel _fine_, Ammeh," Reza said, already walking off and waving behind him goodbye.

"I'll pick you up after your lesson!" Sara called after him before turning back towards Erik. "If I didn't know any better I'd say he had this planned all along."

Erik chuckled. "He doesn't know any better. Since it appears we're going to be left alone for a while, would you sing for me?"

"Oh no, I couldn't," Sara insisted, but Erik's gaze was persistent.

"You sell yourself short, Sara. You have a remarkable voice. It's so different from the voices I've heard in the west. Not that I've heard many of those either outside of my own imagination."

Sara tilted her head. "I don't understand."

"I can read music and imagine the voices of an opera or a mass in my mind, but I've only ever heard part of an opera and less than that of a proper mass," the masked man explained. Just thinking back on the events brought warmth to the man's heart. The opera in Rome had been the first and only confirmation that Erik's gift with music was just that; it is one thing to imagine the notes and voice in one's mind, but it is something else to hear them, to really hear them in the air.

_L'elsir d'amore_ was not one of the more beautiful Operas Erik had read, although he was familiar with it when the opportunity arose to pass by the opera house long enough to sneak inside and watch nearly an entire act. The experience was unforgettable, and had in one fell swoop filled him with life and broke his heart. The opera itself was stunning, but the knowledge his writing, his own music would never be played in such harmonies aloud or sung with such heart and passion by anyone but himself. For a week he locked himself in his room, too deep in self loathing to eat and too in love with the art to sleep.

"And music here is different than the music in the west?" Sara asked, breaking Erik from his thoughts.

"Much, much different. Not better or worse," Erik added, "but different."

After careful consideration, Sara began to sing. The woman refused to look at Erik for the duration of the song, still unused too singing in company but obliging him nevertheless. She sang a simple song her sister-in-law had sung often, a meaningless little melody Sanas had used to pass the time long ago. Sara had enjoyed joining in and singing the harmony and now found it odd to sing the melody itself, almost as though she were wearing Sanas' clothes and they did not quite fit right.

The masked magician was spellbound during begining of the melody, short though it was. His eyes closed, allowing himself to imagine a world the melody defined. The song was old, he could tell, something passed down generations in the east that sounded to Erik like something that might be heard on the high desert. He imagined scenes from One Thousand and One Nights and of the beautiful Scheherazade who had once spoke them to her Sultan husband to save her own life.

Once Sara had sung through the words once, the man found himself joining in the melody without meaning to, singing along in a deep and quiet voice to compliment Sara's vibrant soprano. Startled at first, Sara's voice faltered before continuing again the same as before. What a remarkable feeling, and the sound! Independently the melody was fine, but in harmony with Erik it became a living, breathing entity.

The song finished, and Sara rubbed the gooseflesh off her arms. Her heart was swollen as she regarded Erik, who had grown quiet with an absent look in his eyes. Without thinking and with no knowledge of what overcame her, Sara leaned in kiss the masked man gently upon the mouth.

Erik's mind rallied in protest for only a short moment before giving in. Since the day he first saw her and she had collapsed into his arms, some deep and well-hidden part of him had wondered what her lips would taste like. That first day the smell of her hair and the softness of her flesh exposed by her harem clothing had disarmed him more than he imagined it could, but even that experience was nothing like this kiss.

There was no ulterior motive to this action, nothing desired in return. Unlike the way the Sultana had kissed him, the moments leading up to this were serene and sincere. That knowledge kept Erik's mind just quiet enough, allowing no protest when he returned the kiss in kind. Even when she stepped closer to him, her lovely frame against his with her hands resting on his chest, he was not only calm but elated enough to hold her in turn, as though in his arms was a perfectly natural place for her to be.

It was only when the kiss drew to a close and Sara's hand moved to rest on the leather covering his cheek that the sabotaging, self loathing part of his mind flew into consciousness and began to rage.

_You idiot_, it hissed. _You ignorant, love-sick fool. Even if she was honest in her intentions, even if she thinks she cares for you, she is blind to what you really are. The mask will come off and she will fear and hate you like all the rest of them._

Erik took a wide step back, eyes fixated on the floor and his jaw tight. He glanced up at her and opened his mouth as if to explain, but the furrow of confusion that had fallen on her brow meant she already knew what she needed to know; what had just transpired between them should never have happened, and would not be happening again.

In a whirl of fabric he moved past her, careful not to touch her as he did so before vanishing from the room and from the apartment entirely.

Surprised at herself for being so bold, surprised at the outcome and surprised at Erik's reaction, Sara could do nothing but sit on the edge of the Magician's bed and cover her mouth in her hands. There was no more ignoring the feelings she was developing for the quiet, brilliant man who had come so suddenly into her life, but after the way Erik left she was certain there was no pursuing them either. But did he feel the same or didn't he? The kiss had sent a wave of comfort and passion throughout her body; had he not felt it too? He returned the kiss and held her close, but why had he moved away? And to leave without saying a word… had she done something wrong?

When Nadir returned home at mid-day, he found Sara crying quietly on the edge of the Magician's bed. When asked, she was thorough and honest with her tale while she leaned on her brother's shoulder and welcomed his embrace. The Daroga frowned as he listened, thoughtful but quiet. In the end, he had no words of comfort, no wise advice for his sister to set her on her path. He could only wonder at the turn of events, and of what the future might hold.

* * *

The bathing rooms of the harem were off-limits to men during the day, with only a select few who paid a hefty enough price being allowed in with one of the girls for company after dark. The privacy was more for propriety than actual modesty, as far as the Sultana was concerned. It wasn't as if her girls weren't practically naked in front of every man who walked in the harem already, in their gossamer harem pants and midriff baring tops that had remained tradition in the face of conservative religious practice.

"Your highness, there's a man trying to get in. He says he needs to speak with you urgently." One of eunuchs announced from his guard post at the door. Even without their members, eunuchs seldom dared enter into the baths without explicit permission.

"Tell him he's made a valiant effort, but that unless he's willing to be castrated –"

"Your Highness, your highness it's about the Magician," the voice of a young man called passed the guard. "You said to come to you immediately, night or day, no matter the circumstances if something has happened."

"And has something happened?" The Sultana called back, her interest piqued.

"Yes, Your Highness, between the Magician and Sara Khan."

"Let him in."

A young man of barely sixteen years made his way into the bath, fleet footed and careful where his eyes wandered. He moved right to the Sultana's bath, looking at her only long enough to identify her before pinning his eyes to the floor and crouching to whisper into her ear.

A wicked smile crossed the Sultana's face as he spoke, patting the boy's cheek when he was through.

"Marvelous, simply marvelous."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Americans, and happy Thursday to everyone else :)


	8. Chapter 8

Being the guest of honor for the party commemorating the commission of the new palace meant Erik had no choice but to attend, a fact he rather resented. Crowds made him uncomfortable enough, but in a crowd where it was almost completely impossible to vanish into the shadows his anxiety was at a high.

Erik had seen little of Sara since their kiss, having moved to his own apartments the day after and spending most of his days prior to the celebration presenting the final design of the palace to the Sultan. She was present at the festivities of course, watching the performances from beside the Sultana and the other ladies of the Harem. Musicians, actors, poets and dancers, one after the other presented their talents to the Sultana and her companions, but Sara's attention did not seem captured by any of them. Each time Erik looked, the young woman's eyes were distant and her applause insincere.

A bard was telling the story of Odysseus and his journey when Sara's attention fell across the crowd and ultimately on the Magician where he stood near the column doubling as an entrance to the palace from the garden. She caught his eyes for only a moment before ducking her head and returning her attention to the bard.

Taking a deep drink from his wineglass, Erik leaned against the column and closed his eyes in an attempt to clear his thoughts. He heard the Daroga approach before he even spoke. "Enjoying yourself?"

The sidelong glance Erik gave the man was answer enough. "I don't care for these things either," Nadir sympathized. "Just one of these parties costs almost an entire of year of taxes, did you know that? Between this and the palace, not to mention the impending war –"

Erik raised a brow under his mask. "War?"

"It's why the Sultan wants a palace further inland; it will be closer to the front. His soldiers will be housed in tents while goes to bed to his wives in silk sheets every night," the Daroga sighed. "It isn't right. Frankly, it's why the people are rebelling at all."

"Why are you telling me this?" Erik asked after another drink from his glass. "I'm the one building the palace."

"You're right, of course. You and the Sultan are the only people who know the palace's secrets, and really I doubt the Sultan remembers them all. You have responsibilities," Nadir said, never breaking Erik's gaze while he spoke.

Immediately Erik knew his meaning and nodded his agreement. "If I were to give you any details at all about the palace, someone might overhear and the rebels would have an advantage. We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

"Never," Nadir promised. "I should never have put you in a position to compromise our Sultan."

When Erik spoke next, his mouth never moved. "Give me time to consider it. I have no side in this, and it would mean risking a great deal."

Nadir nodded his satisfaction to the answer and changed the subject. "I hear you're getting quite a significant gift tonight."

"I've been paid for the palace already," Erik explained, but Nadir shook his head and glanced at the harem where his sister sat looking distracted.

"I hear you're going to be given a bride. Your choice of the harem, if I understand correctly."

Erik's heart sunk into his chest and his voice dropped to just above a hiss. "You're not serious."

"I am," the Daroga confirmed, his voice also quiet. "It was the Sultana's idea – it does not feel right to me. I overheard her suggesting it to the Sultan the morning after you and Sara kissed. Oh don't look so surprised, she is my sister after all," the man added when Erik's jaw tightened.

"She expects me to choose Sara," Erik asked without question, and Nadir merely nodded. "What will happen if I refuse?"

"It will be considered an insult, and a heavy one. It would certainly be the end of your career here, if not your life."

"And if my bride refuses me?"

The Daroga took a small breath before answering, knowing he did not only mean refusing the engagement. "Should she refuse you here tonight, or if she refuses to consummate the marriage once it has occurred, she will be executed. Erik –"

The man held up a hand to silence the Daroga, his gaze fixated on the Sultana who had moved to whisper into her husband's ear. It was time.

The Sultan stood and brought the crowd in the garden to attention. "Friends, thank you for attending tonight. Let us not remember that we would not be here tonight were it not for my brilliant new architect, and my wife's very own magician. Erik, please come forward and take a bow."

Amidst insincere applause Erik stepped through the crowd and bowed with a flourish, ever the performer. "It has been an honor and a pleasure, Your Holiness," Erik insisted, but the Sultan raised his hand. Erik's stomach tightened in knots when the man spoke again.

"The Sultana and I have decided that you should be rewarded, and handsomely. My wife is generously offering one of the virgins in her harem as your bride. You may have your pick," the Sultan announced, gesturing towards the women in white who looked a mixture of shocked and horrified.

The crowd applauded, knowing full well the rarity of such an event and the drama that was sure to unfold in its wake. After a moment, the Sultana spoke in a lull in the applause. "Don't keep us waiting, Magician. We're dying to know who you will choose," the woman gushed, her eyes alight with mischief.

Erik placed a hand over his chest as if deeply honored and bowed toward the couple. When he arose, the Magician moved toward the crowd of women with deliberate grace, much as he had the first time he performed for them many months before. Several women had to fight to stay in place and not to step away, so eager were they not to be chosen. As soon as a woman was passed, the look of relief that crossed her face was unmistakable.

Each of the women Erik passed was more beautiful than the last, and tension began to mount once more when Erik began to reach the end of the group and had still not chosen a bride. At the back of the group, Sara's eyes were fixated on her feet. Prayers raced through her mind, impossible wishes that time would reverse, that this gift had never been bestowed. How wicked was the Sultana for playing such a game! She was damned no matter how Erik chose; Sara was not ready to be a wife, especially not to Erik. She could not handle living every day with a man who did feel for her the way she felt for him, whatever that might be.

But Sara was just as unprepared for Erik to choose another woman. Someone he would share secrets with, kiss and hold the way he had with Sara less than a week before. Someone who would share his bed…

Something in the air changed, and Sara's gaze rose. The Magician was in front of her, far more the man who performed for the Sultana than her friend and former houseguest. After a moment something in his visage changed, although it was impossible to tell what; his posture was as arrogant and intimidating as ever and his face was masked, but still Sara could read sincerity in him when he spoke only for her ears.

"I'm sorry."

Suddenly the man stepped back out of the group, toward the Sultan and his wicked wife. "I have made my decision. Hestia, the aptly named 'Star' of the harem," Erik announced.

Nearby Sara, the young woman called Hestia fainted into the arms of her peers. It took all of the effort Sara could muster not to collapse in tears; Hestia was beautiful with hair and eyes as black as the mask on Erik's face and skin as soft and supple as the petals of a rose. She was far from bright, but even tempered, obedient, and kind; the perfect choice for a bride.

So why did Sara want nothing more than to curl up into herself and weep?

The Sultana was unable to keep from containing her surprise. "Are you certain? You may take your time."

"Hestia is the epitome of Persian grace and beauty. I would be honored to have her as my bride. Unless, of course, Her Highness would prefer to keep her for the harem," Erik suggested

Before the Sultana could speak, the Sultan waved off Erik's concern. "Of course not. We offered you your choice, and you shall have it. Look at the girl - she is so excited she's fainted! Tomorrow you will be a married man, Magician. I offer my sincerest congratulations, to you and your bride."

Another round of applause erupted, the crowd pleased with the turn of events. After Erik bowed to thank his employer, he glanced over the women of the harem with a heavy heart.

Sara was no longer there.

* * *

At Erik's request, the wedding was not made public. The only invited guests were the Sultan who would perform the ceremony, his wife, and the members of the harem Erik had insisted come both to support the bride during her transition and to serve as witnesses.

Before the ceremony, Erik paced like a caged tiger. He was far more colorful than usual, wearing a black robe embroidered with gold thread in stunning brocade. The mask on his face was black as well, but lined with gold to match the robes.

When Nadir knocked on the partially open door, Erik did not so much as glance up. "What do you want?"

"You clean up nicely," the Daroga remarked, and the Magician stopped in his tracks to glare at the man briefly.

"Go to hell."

Nadir chuckled, though there was little humor in the sound. Erik began to pace again, and Nadir clasped his hands in front of him with a small frown. "Marriage isn't such a bad thing, Erik."

The man only hummed tonelessly. "Do men and women often get to choose who they marry in the west? From a greater pool than you were allowed to choose, I mean."

Erik sighed and leaned against a wall, glancing up at the ceiling. "No, not often. Arranged marriages are still common, but times are changing."

"What troubles you then, Friend?"

The masked man's gaze moved from the ceiling to fixate on Nadir as though surprised to be called a friend in the light of current events. After a long moment of thoughtful consideration, Erik reached up towards the embossed mask and removed it, revealing the rotten mass of flesh underneath.

It was all Nadir could do to continue looking at the man while he spoke. "You knew what was under my mask before I removed it, and still you were disturbed. Imagine what will happen to Hestia when she removes my mask tonight, if she can overcome her fear of me enough to even reach that point," Erik explained, replacing the mask over his grotesque ruin of a face. "It may not be the first time a woman has seen my face, and it likely won't be the last but…"

Nadir waited a moment when the man fell quiet, his eyes on the floor. "But what?"

"But she's supposed to be my wife. My _wife_ will not be able to so much as look at me without being overcome with disgust and panic. It is exhausting, Daroga, looking like this, _being_ like this," Erik explained, gesturing to his face with an open hand. "Being a monster. I would give my soul to be an ordinary man, even a simply ugly one. Even ugly men's wives can grow to love them."

Nadir frowned, but had no words for the man. Lies would not serve him well, and neither would honesty; truly, the man was right and had every reason to be exhausted and more. "Good luck today. And tonight. I hope Hestia can look beyond your face."

Erik laughed mirthlessly, and another knock sounded at the door. "Lord Magician, it is time."

* * *

Hestia was a work of art, painted from head to foot in henna that made her skin glow. She was dressed in a thin silk robe that clung to her curves enticingly, the fabric eager to ripple off her naked body underneath even as she held it closed in the doorway of Erik's apartments.

The eunuchs who brought her to her new home flanked the young bride, but stayed by the door when Erik raised a hand and beckoned the woman forward.

Erik's eyes roved the young woman's frame, his heart racing even after the hours of telling himself he would not allow his hopes to rise. "You looked stunning tonight. You look stunning now," he added, his voice thick and enticing.

Nervously, Hestia glanced up and met the man's eyes before suddenly becoming transfixed. "Thank you, My Lord."

"Please, my dear, sweet bride, call me by my name."

"…Erik."

The Magician took a small, sharp breath at the sound of his name on the woman's lips and beckoned her closer still. Maybe, just maybe there was a chance…

Unfurling from the chair he had sunk into to drink after the ceremony, Erik was close enough to the woman to smell her perfume. Breath caught in his throat when he recognized the scent as one that often lingered on Sara after her hours in the harem.

_Forget her_, the voice in his head hissed. _She is only a dream, but this beautiful creature is really and truly in front of you. She is yours."_

Reaching out to touch the woman's robes, it took almost no effort for the thin silk to flow down off her shoulders revealing her soft, full breasts. The woman tensed but dared not pull the robe up again to cover herself against Erik's gaze. From their place on her shoulder, Erik's fingers traced their way down her flesh and between her breasts, and to his surprise her skin erupted into gooseflesh at his touch.

Stepping back, Erik withdrew his hand and spoke. "Let me see you. All of you."

Hesitant but obedient, Hestia released the robe and allowed it to fall around her feet. The flow of the fabric brought the heady scent she wore into the air, and Erik's eyes rolled in sheer bliss. The woman stood naked before him, real and tangible but again thoughts of Sara had to be forcibly removed from his mind.

She was a ghost. This woman, this angel was real. Again hope surged through him. "You are a goddess, Hestia. My saving grace."

"You are kinder than I deserve, My – Erik," she corrected.

"You deserve more kindness than I can possibly provide," Erik countered. "Come closer. You are a brave woman, Hestia."

The woman obeyed, and Erik raised a hand to her face. His hand cupping her cheek, he ran his thumb over her lips to feel their warmth and softness. Hestia leaned into the touch almost as though she were enjoying it.

A strange look crossed her face suddenly and she reached out slowly to touch the cheek of his mask. "What is under your mask?" She asked, her voice small.

"…You may see for yourself," Erik said, his hand rising to cover hers gently. Careful not to force her hand, wanting, _needing_ to know she was acting of her own free will, Erik guided her fingers to the edge of the mask.

Eyes fixated on her face, Erik allowed Hestia to life the mask off his face. Time slowed to a near stop in the moments that followed, burning the seconds into Erik's memory. Hestia's cherubim face contorted in fear, her jaw dropping and eyes widening as she let out a scream of terror that drowned out the sound of blood rushing in Erik's ears. Too terrified to think, the woman turned and raced for the door without so much as gathering her robe to cover her naked body, stopped only by the two eunuchs at the door.

Time caught up with him, and blinding rage struck Erik to the core. "You stupid girl," he barked, stalking forward to grab the girl's wrist and yank her towards him. Again she screamed, only feeding the Magician's rage. "You will be killed if you do not consummate our marriage, do you understand that? _Look at me_!" Erik roared when the girl only sobbed, grabbing her chin in his hands to force her eyes on his wrecked and rotten appearance. "You will be killed if you do not lie with me tonight and bind our marriage. Would you rather die than lie with me?"

Shaking violent with fear, Erik released the girl's chin. She did not move toward either Erik or the door, trembling and crying loudly. "Save me and you save yourself," Erik ventured once he could manage to keep the outrage out of his voice.

When he stepped forward and reached out again to touch her face, Hestia screamed and again moved to the door. She collapsed crying into the eunuchs who stopped her, and this time Erik did not follow.

Hands shaking, Erik clenched his fists and turned his back on the door before speaking in a low and even voice. "Take her back to the harem. She has made her choice."


	9. Chapter 9

Just as the sun rose over the horizon, Sara's restless slumber was disturbed by the sound of movement in the sitting room. When the front door opened and closed again, the movement did not stop. Grabbing a blanket to wrap over her shoulders, the young woman peered out into the room through a crack in the door before opening it fully and leaning against the doorframe.

"Has something happened?"

Nadir was pulling on his boots even as he made his way to the door. "I was just informed that the Magician's bride refused him last night. She is to be executed before noon."

Sara clutched a hand over her heart and frowned deeply. "Oh no…"

The Daroga sighed heavily. "He knew this would happen, but even still I can't imagine what is going on through his head, or hers. Honestly I was expecting her to deny him at the ceremony, not this far along. It's going to be a long day."

"How could he possibly have known this would happen?"

"I don't have time to explain," Nadir dismissed. "See Reza off to his lessons when he wakes, won't you?"

With an obedient nod, Sara stayed in the doorway of her room even after her brother had left. For the first time she found herself wishing she lived in the harem with the other girls, for she was dying to know what had happened. What could possibly have made Hestia, no matter how dim she might have been choose death over marriage to the Magician? Had he beaten her? It seemed unlikely; as intimidating as he could be at times Erik was never a real threat, and when he kissed Sara he had been downright gentle. Surely he had treated the woman he chose as his wife just as gently.

So what then?

Reza awoke, and Sara tried her best not to raise awareness to what had happened the night before; although Reza cared for Erik like an uncle, this was no matter for a little boy. She cooked breakfast and helped him dress the same as every morning, and walked him to his lesson.

"Why was Father gone so early this morning?" Reza asked suddenly, just outside the door of his teacher's apartment.

"There's going to be an execution today, he had to ready things," Sara explained, pushing back the boy's hair. "You need a haircut when we get home tonight."

Reza wrinkled his face. "I hate when there's an execution. What did he do?"

Sara's eyes lowered, looking everywhere but the boy's eyes as she tried to find a suitable lie, or at least a suitable half-truth. "It is a woman today. She… disobeyed her husband. I really don't know much about it, you'll have to ask your father when he comes home."

Leaving Reza with the tutor, Sara moved in entirely the wrong direction were she returning to her apartments. Erik may not have chosen her to be his bride and may have caused her days of grief in doing so, but he was still her friend wasn't he? No matter how it happened, Erik's bride had refused him last night; Sara could not think of any time someone could use a friend more.

Stopping outside Erik's apartments, she raised her hand to knock on the ornate double doors but found that the door slid open with ease under the gentle weight of her hand but stopped short, blocked by something inside. With a curious frown, Sara crept into the apartment and immediately covered her mouth in shock, falling back into the second door where it remained closed.

When Sara had been shown the apartment just weeks before, it had been flawless. One single, large room with an adjacent washroom, the dwelling was even more beautiful and ornate than the apartment she lived in with her brother and nephew, clearly fit for spoiling the Sultan's new favorite servant. Now it looked as though a rabid dog had been let loose in the room, leaving only chaos in its wake.

Every bit of fabric was ripped to shreds, including the pillows of the bed that had come to spill their downy gizzards throughout the room. Furniture was overturned and the desk chair was splintered and in pieces against a wall far from its sturdy desk, which itself was missing a leg. Every piece of metal that could be bent had been twisted into grotesque shapes and left to die, the wax from several candles dripping down their broken frames like blood.

In all this wreckage, the Magician was nowhere to be found.

Venturing into the room, Sara found herself glad for the thin sandals she wore when her feet crushed bits of broken glass underneath. A small, metallic object caught Sara's sight from nearby, and she carefully made her way through the debris to retrieve it.

A man's wedding band.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?"

The unexpected sound of Erik's voice startled Sara, and she jumped up guiltily. "I heard about what happened, I came to see if you were alright –"

The masked man scoffed and stumbled into the room, his uneven gait exacerbated by the wreckage upon the floor. Sara studied him with a small frown. "You're drunk again aren't you?"

"Yes. Did you know there is an opium den just outside the palace gaits? What a delightful find. We certainly don't have anything half as effective in the west," Erik explained.

Upon glancing up at Sara and seeing her pursed lips and silent disapproval, Erik let out a quiet harrumph. "You're not my wife, you have no right to judge what I do or where I go. Speaking of which, am I a widower yet? Your brother and I could start a society depressing enough to rival the Freemasons."

Erik's balance failed him and he fell, catching himself on his hands and letting what must have been a curse in a language Sara did not understand. Moving toward him to help the man to his feet, Sara frowned at the sight of blood on his hands. "Sit down on what's left of your bed," she ordered, and when Erik opened his mouth as if to protest, but Sara stopped him. "If you insist on behaving like a child I am going to treat you like one. Now come sit and tell me where you keep your bandages."

With a tight jaw, Erik relented and allowed Sara to help him to the tattered remains of the bed. "They're in the washroom, in a basket by the bath. You didn't answer my question."

Sara made her way carefully to the washroom, finding it to be the only neat and tidy place left in the apartment. "I don't know what has become of Hestia yet. But certainly by noon you will be a widower the same as Nadir."

Returning to Erik to find him inspecting his hands with quiet interest, Sara sat beside him and took his hands to pluck the glass from his hands with the tweezers she found in the medical bag she had once made him tea from.

Erik hardly winced until Sara poured a splash of alcohol over his hands and wrapped them tightly with clean bandages. "There. You'd better wear your gloves when you clean this all up."

"Have you talked to her at all?" Erik asked suddenly, and Sara shook her head gently.

"No. I haven't seen her since the wedding."

Again the man fell quiet, taking back his hands. "For a moment I thought…" he began, before shaking his head and silencing himself again.

"For a moment you thought what?" Sara pried, but Erik kept his thoughts unvoiced.

Sara squeezed the man's arm gently, about to dismiss herself when Erik finally spoke. "I thought it might have worked. I thought Hestia might have been able to put aside her fear of me enough to make a marriage."

"What happened?" Sara asked. Erik's flinch at the question did not go unnoticed.

Just when Sara was thinking the man might not answer, he began to explain the events of the night before, from the moment Hestia was brought into the room in her robe to the moment she was all but carried out again.

"I came so close… Even toward the end, she hesitated. She knew full well the choice was me or the gallows, and she _deliberately_ chose death. I just… I can't…" Erik trailed off, voice catching in his throat as he hung his head.

Sara held her hands to her chest and frowned, trying hard not to cry. "Erik… I'm sorry."

Erik waved the woman off and stood to begin righting overturned furniture. "I should have expected it. I _did_ expect it, ultimately, but I didn't expect to come so close to being wrong."

"Nadir said the same thing, but I don't understand. How could you have expected Hestia, or anyone to choose death over marriage? It makes no sense at all," Sara reasoned, joining him in cleaning up the disaster he had created.

"Fear is a powerful motivator. I doubted she could overcome her fear of me enough to even go through with the wedding, but she did. I doubted she would make it all the way to my door on our wedding night, but she did. I thought it would end there, that if she could enter my room, she would never stay for more than a moment. I never imagined she would wind up naked in my arms, but she did." Erik explained, growing quiet for another moment before continuing. "I knew she would die before marrying me. Even if she could overcome her fear of me as a man she would never overcome her fear of my face. Your brother knew it too, I'm sure that's why your brother warned me I'd be choosing a bride," the man added.

"Had you… told him you were interested in Hestia?" Sara asked, confused. Why didn't Nadir mention her when she told him about their kiss?

Erik shook his head. "I was never _interested_ in Hestia. How can anyone be interested in a woman with as much personality as a koi fish? I think Nadir warned me so he could also ask me not to choose you. He never got that far, but I was one step ahead of him."

Realization crept over Sara in a nauseating wave. "You think I would have done the same thing Hestia did."

"Of course you would have, you're only human."

"I don't believe you, either of you! Do you really think I'm so callous, such a simpering little coward that I would rather die than marry my best friend? _You_ ran away from _me,_ Erik, or have you forgotten?" Sara barked, her anger surprising even herself.

"What are you so angry about? I wanted to protect you!"

"Protect me? I've been a wreck since you let me kiss you and ran off. Before the party I was willing to chalk it up to experience, to pretend I had misread something in what happened. I was willing to continue being your friend because you mean _that_ much to me. I didn't want you to choose me at the party, not because I was afraid of you but because I didn't know if I could be a wife to someone I loved who didn't love me back, but watching you choose Hestia was even worse! Watching you _marry_ her, was that really supposed to protect me?"

Erik had stopped in his tracks and was staring at Sara by the time she realized what she had said. Her eyes grew wide and filled with tears when she realized what she had said, and her hands immediately covered her mouth as if to take back the words that had tumbled forth moments before.

Unable to find any words to explain herself, Sara quickly ran out of the apartment and closed the door behind her. Mortified with her behavior, Sara found herself unable to move from against the outside of the apartment door. What had she done?

* * *

By the time Erik could gather himself enough to attempt to follow after her, Sara was gone. As he was about to follow her, a distant bell tolled twelve noon and Erik froze in his tracks; he was now a widower. The thought overwhelmed him, and Erik leaned back against the door Sara had used to support herself not long before.

Erik moved back inside, and pushed over the furniture he had only just righted as he passed.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This might be the last chapter this week - finals are coming up dontchaknow? Sorry it's a little short :(


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** So I lied :)

* * *

Erik knocked on the Daroga's door, half hoping Sara would open it and half praying she wouldn't.

Reza was the one to answer. The sight of the boy startled Erik; he was thinner than the last time Erik had seen him, and he had not been a large boy even then. Little Reza's face was gaunt and his skin pale, but his spirits were high."Erik! Father is expecting you. Can you stay after? I've been working on a magic trick I want to show you," the boy boasted, and Erik kneeled down to clasp the boy's shoulder on his level.

"I would love to see it," Erik promised, rising again when the Daroga entered the room to shake the man's hand. "Nadir."

"Erik. Reza, go back to your room and allow Erik and I to speak in private please," Nadir instructed.

"But –"

Erik interrupted. "We're going to be very dull, Reza. Why don't you practice the trick you're going to show me in the mean time?"

The boy resigned, skulking off to his room while the Daroga frowned after him. "That boy is more obedient of you and Sara than he ever is of me."

"It's natural for a boy to push against his father. He does admire you; he told me once he wants to be Daroga one day himself," Erik explained.

"Did you struggle with your father?" Nadir asked, honestly curious as he gestured to the dining room where several large sheets of thin parchment were strewn.

"I never knew my father," Erik admitted. "But I watch people, and I've seen this before. He isn't looking well though, Daroga. Is he eating?"

Nadir shook his head and stood behind the table, leaning into it. "No, hardly a bite. Sara's been making his favorite meals and he only eats a bite or two before insisting he's full or becoming ill. It's terrible; he doesn't eat because he doesn't feel well, but he doesn't feel well because he won't eat. I don't know what to do."

"I'll take a look at him tonight and see if it's something physical. If not, try talking him into eating something with a lot of fat or sugar. It will help him keep on weight."

"Thank you, Erik. Now explain to me how I'm supposed to read any of these pages, they all look like nonsense," Nadir asked, gesturing to the pages.

"Did you receive the one I sent last night?" Erik asked, and Nadir browsed over the pages on the table before pulling one out and passing it toward Erik. The Magician took it, and placed it atop of the other pages.

"These are all parts of traces of the original blueprints of the main floor of the palace," Erik began, adjusting the angle of the pages just so. "This top page is the key, line up the symbols on the pages below with this top one and it will show properly."

"And these lines going into the palace from outside, these are passages?"

"Some of them, and they are not set in stone," Erik warned. "Once the foundation is set and I get onto the sight, I am the only person responsible for the construction of the passages into and out of the building, and I have several in mind I did not tell the Sultan about namely here and here."

As he spoke, Erik gestured to in turn to two locations – one near the main throne room and the other near the Sultana's chambers adjacent to the harem. "I thought it was time the spies are spied on. There will also be passages within the palace between floors; I'll have to find a way to denote those once they're built. I'm rather enjoying the process of creating them, truth be told. It's like inventing a puzzle."

Nadir chuckled and nodded. "This is a great start, Erik. Thank you for this, and for your discretion. Can I ask… what made you decide to help me in this?"

"The Sultana forced me to take sides in this the minute she had the idea to give me a bride she knew would die. She even picked what side I would take when she intended that bride to be Sara."

Erik hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Is she here?"

"No, but she's due home soon. They buried Hestia today," Nadir explained, and Erik nodded absently. "She didn't tell me what happened, if that is what you're wondering," the Daroga added.

"How would you know to say that if she didn't tell you anything?" Erik countered.

The Daroga smiled sadly. "She shouted at me for ten minutes about not trusting her, thinking she was selfish enough to want to die rather than be married. I can only assume you talked to her. She went right to bed after her fit and hasn't mentioned it since."

Erik hummed and sat in one of the chairs. "…She said she loved me, Daroga. I told Sara I chose Hestia to protect her, and she went on a tirade about what choosing Hestia had put her through. She said she would have wanted me to choose her, except that she didn't know if she could be married to someone she loved who didn't love her," Erik explained, beginning to ramble himself.

"She doesn't know your history. She doesn't know you've stolen and killed, that you're responsible for the death of hundreds if not thousands –" Nadir reasoned, but was interrupted.

"That number is grossly over exaggerated."

"But the gypsy troupe –"

"I did not kill them," Erik promised. "I take credit for it when it benefits me to do so, but they died of typhus after I left. But you're right. She doesn't know those things."

"How can she possibly love you if she doesn't know you?"

Falling quiet, Erik thought for a long moment before speaking again. "May I ask you a question and expect an honest answer?"

"Yes, of course."

"Do you believe the past defines who we are?"

The Daroga took a long minute to consider this before giving his full and honest answer. "In some ways yes, in others no. We are nothing without our histories. The things that happen to us, the things we see and do that shape our decisions also shape who we are. But I also believe people grow and change with their experiences. I know I am not the same man I was before my wife died. I am also not the same man I was only a year ago."

"Does it follow then that because I have stolen I am a thief? Or that because I have killed I am a killer?" Erik asked, genuinely curious and somber.

"I think it made you those things while you were doing them, but what you are now is based on your actions now. I do think they changed you and made you into the man you are today, for better or worse," Nadir said.

Erik listened and looked thoughtful while Nadir spoke before nodding. "So it is possible for Sara to know me without having known the things I have done," Erik reasoned.

Nadir laced his fingers and glanced down at the table. "Honestly… maybe. But being her brother it is something I would prefer for her to know. I think she should know what it is you're capable of before deciding something as life-changing as love."

"Do you think she loves me, Daroga?"

"I think only she knows the answer to that question. But I will tell you this – whether she loves your or not, whether you have intentions with her or not - I don't care if you are aiding us in rebellion, or if you cure my son, or if you're the Sutlana's pet, I _will_ kill you if you hurt my sister."

Much to the Daroga's surprise, Erik chuckled. "You would try, Daroga. You would try."

"He would try what?" Came the voice of Sara from behind Erik, and the Magician turned in his chair.

"Nothing," Nadir promised, rising to walk around the table and greet his sister. She was dressed in black with a mourner's veil draped over her face. "Erik has come to explain his blueprints to me, should we invite him to stay for supper?"

Sara knew her brother was lying, but allowed him to dodge the question. "Yes, yes of course. Stay for supper, won't you Erik? It's the least we could do before sending you home on the day of your bride's funeral."

"I'm a widower, not a cripple," Erik defended, standing from his chair. "I'll take a look at Reza before I go, but I'll find my own supper."

"Please Erik, I insist. You have better odds than I do of talking my son into eating," Nadir reasoned, and Erik pursed his lips before glancing in the direction of Reza's room.

"Alright. I'd best let him show me the magic trick he's been practicing."

Reza was well and truly ill. His belly was tender to the touch, and more than two or three bites of the rich meal Sara had prepared caused the boy to vomit. Sara tended to the ill boy while a distraught Nadir cleared the table, his appetite lost at the thought of his ill son.

"He's dying, isn't he?"

Erik glanced down at the floor. "Yes, he is. He'll get sicker more quickly now that he's not eating, and will become far more fragile. I don't know what to do to slow it, let alone stop it."

Sara joined them once Reza was put to bed, tears in her eyes as she picked up a plate without a word. The masked man was filled with the desire to comfort her but had no words to say. Suddenly the plate in Sara's hands slipped from her grip, shattering on the floor an eliciting an uncharacteristic curse from the young woman. She knelt to pick up the broken porcelain wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands. When Nadir touched her shoulder gently, Sara sobbed aloud and sat in place.

"He asked me if he was dying, Nadir. He knows," she cried, and Nadir knelt beside her to resume cleaning the broken plate.

"Erik, could you please put Sara to bed? I'll clean up here."

Carefully Erik reached down to help Sara to her feet, allowing her to lean on him while she sobbed uncontrollably. Glancing over his shoulder back at the Daroga, he saw the man kneeling on the floor, hands buried in his face and shoulders heaving.

He turned his attention back on Sara, helping her to her bedroom and drawing the sheets. She was still fully dressed, but crawled into bed regardless and remained clinging onto Erik's sleeve.

Singing quietly, Erik kneeled by the bed and stroked the woman's hair to soothe her. With time, her crying slowed to small, infrequent hiccups and sniffles. Sara's grip moved from Erik's sleeve to his hand, desperate to feel its warmth. "I'm a mess, Erik. I can't remember feeling this terrible even after Sanas died. Why are these terrible things happening at once?"

"The gypsies believe bad things happen in threes," Erik explained. "I've become inclined to believe it."

Sara considered this through while she tried to force her breathing to return to normal. "Hestia refused you and died for it. Reza is dying. What else?"

"In meaning to protect you, I hurt you. I would say that counts, based on your charges against me yesterday," Erik offered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she hummed her quiet agreement. Again Erik began to sing a quiet lullaby, and Sara pulled his hand up to her face to feel its warmth against her cheek. His palms were rough, a working man's hands. Although she knew he was an architect, his long and delicate fingers were more suited to the idea of Erik as a musician and magician than a man of stone and wood. They were comforting and strong, with his thumb careful to keep tears off the cheek it protected.

"Would you stay until I fall asleep?" She asked, and Erik nodded his silent agreement. Her hiccups slowing with the continuation of Erik's lullaby, Sara's eyes began to close and before long she had fallen into a light and restless sleep. Not long after Sara's eyes closed, Erik's eyelids felt heavy. He found himself resting his head on his arm, never removing his hand from Sara's cheek.

At three in the morning, Sara woke from a fitful sleep to find Erik had pulled up a chair near her bedside and fallen asleep with his head at the edge of her bed. Still half asleep herself, the young woman crawled from bed and undressed from her mourning clothes, changing into a more comfortable sleeping gown before abandoning the bed in favor of Erik's lap. She curled her legs into her chest, leaning into Erik's chest and closing her eyes to attempt to sleep again.

She did not notice that Erik had waken, and was asleep by the time he wrapped his arms around Sara and rested his masked cheek upon the top of her head.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** For real this time - last chapter for a few days. My housemates are under strict orders to flick me if they catch me doing anything but schoolwork until Thursday.

* * *

Guiding a nervous Sara with her arm tucked in his, Erik made way through the palace as the only person among them with sight intact.

Sara was blindfolded and had been since before they left her apartment, but had yet to overcome her fear of sightlessness. "I'm going to trip on something I know it! I'm clumsy enough as it is!"

"I doubt if you're as clumsy as you say, and even if you are I am the one guiding you and my vision is just fine. I knew a blind man once who insisted on being guided like this because it was the _least_ likely way he was able to trip."

"But –"

"For the hundredth time, I'm not about to let you fall or run into thing. Trust me, won't you?"

"I do trust you," Sara insisted.

Erik laughed. "Then stop complaining and start acting like it. We're practically there," he explained stopping and fussing with something that made a soft sliding sound before continuing just a bit further. Erik slipped free of her grasp and sliding sound repeated behind her. After only a moment, he returned to her side reassuringly. "Alright here we are. You may take the blindfold off

Doing as she was instructed, Sara untied the strip of fabric from behind her head and pulled it away, her eyes needing a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness in the room. She gasped at the sight before her – thousands and thousands of trees spreading out in every direction, like a perfect forest. Had Sara not known she was still in the palace, she might have thought they were truly in a forest.

"This is your forest of mirrors isn't it?" She breathed, and Erik nodded in a way that was almost a bow.

"It is. Do you like it."

"Erik it's _stunning_," Sara praised, walking around the room. "May I borrow one of your gloves? I don't want to smudge the glass," she explained, and Erik approached her to hand her a glove as she had asked.

The woman ventured away from the center of the room with a gloved hand outstretched jumping some and laughing in delight when the tips of her fingers struck glass before she could even see herself. "This is incredible! I have to be right up against it to see my own reflection!" She exclaimed, stepping only just closer and finding her reflection.

"I've come up with a few additions, would you like to see?"

"Yes of course."

"Look up," Erik directed.

As soon as her head tilted up, Sara laughed in astonishment and delight. "There are clouds and blue sky between the trees!"

Erik nodded. "Every six hours the sky turns to night, clear skies full of stars. From the outside, I can make it rain. The temperature even changes with the time of day. I played around with adding sounds for ambience, but I only know the way the forests sound in Europe. It might sound odd here."

"I'd like to hear it," Sara promised, and Erik nodded his agreement before considering for a moment.

Suddenly the quiet hum of a far-off cicada filled the air, and Sara grinned. The sound was replaced by crickets, which in turn were replaced by the persistent drill of a woodpecker. The sound of a crow cackling so close to her head actually made Sara glance up into the tree canopy as if the bird might actually be above them. There was the sound of leaves rustling, soon replaced by the sound of a babbling brook nearby.

"Alright, I will buy that _you _are responsible for all of those sounds except the stream," Sara exclaimed and Erik chuckled, immediately stopping the sound of flowing water. "Why on earth would you learn to imitate a stream?"

"I lived with Gypsies for years, and it became useful. Often times sending them scurrying off in hopes of finding water was the only chance I had to be left to my own devices for a while."

"Why Gypsies? I thought you were French?"

"I am. I ran away from home when I was a boy and wound up traveling with Gypsies," Erik explained, although it was not much of an explanation for Sara.

"Wait, you left your home in France to travel with Gypsies?" Sara tried to reason, unable to imagine how a home in France could be improved by such a nomadic lifestyle as the Gypsies led.

"It's a longer story than that," the masked man admitted, gesturing toward the tree at the center of the room. At its base, tucked into the roots was a rolled up blanket and a basket. "I'm going to need a bit of alcohol before I tell it, though. Are you hungry?"

With Sara's smile and nod, Erik moved to the tree and unrolled the blanket onto the ground at the base of the tree, sitting to unload the downright feast he had packed before pouring himself a large glass of wine and taking a long drink.

Sara rolled a grape between her fingers as she watched him, her curiosity piqued. Upon seeing the picnic he had prepared, she had thought his request for alcohol was only a ploy to get her to join him for lunch. Now it seemed he was entirely serious.

Seeing that Sara was watching him, and surely expecting an answer by now, Erik began. "I left home when I was eight years old, to spare my mother the burden of continuing to raise a son as… unusual as I was. That is a story in and of itself. Having been confined to the house I was born in for my entire life and having only dared venture out into the small village the house was located in on several occasions, I was entirely unprepared for life on my own. I had no idea where I was going or how I would get there, only that I could not possibly take the main roads without risking capture and that was not an option. Fortunately, my village was not far from a forest very similar to this one," Erik explained, gesturing around them. "Tall, well spaced trees with a thick enough canopy to keep the rain from being too terrible in places and a soft mossy floor. Water was easy enough to find, but I had no idea how to hunt or what produce the land offered would be safe to eat and what might kill me and very soon found myself starving and desperate. As it turns out, forests like this one are also favored by Gypsies for their access to water, wide trees good for horses and wagons, and cover from the sun during the day, among other things. Being an arrogant child as I was, stealing food was not enough; I decided once I'd put away a few apples and pieces of dried meat that I would try to steal a horse, which of course I had never ridden in my life. I was caught, and of course the mask upon my face did not go unnoticed. The mask was ill fitting at the time, and some of my scars were visible around the edges… they knew I was hiding more than my identity, and as soon as they saw what I was tossed into a cage."

Sara's eyes widened and she spoke for the first time since Erik's story began. "A _cage_? Why would they toss a little boy into a cage?"

"They were traveling with a French circus performer turned entrepreneur. He had started a freak show no carnival in France wanted to be responsible for, but found asylum with the Gypsies. If he could make them money, they were willing to turn a blind eye to the atrocities in his freak show," Erik explained matter-of-factly, as if he had only heard the story and not been a part of it.

"How long did this go on?" Sara demanded.

Erik shrugged gently and picked up a piece of flatbread with jam. "I'm not certain; four years or so, but that is when I lost track of time. My master when I was studying architecture guessed I was about thirteen when he found me, and I had been free of the Gypsies about half a year by then so four years seems right."

The forest was quiet around them for a long time while Erik ate, but Sara seemed to have lost her appetite. "I've never told anyone that story before," Erik admitted after a while. "I didn't realize how much it would bother you, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Erik," Sara insisted. "I'm glad you told me. Truly," she promised.

Again she spoke. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry that happened to you. I know I had nothing to do with it and have no reason to apologize… but it seems so wrong that I was living here in paradise at the same time you were living in a cage and being treated like an animal, and I'm sorry."

"The Gypsies treated their animals better than they treated me," Erik corrected. "But… thank you. It's worth more than you think."

"Your face causes you a lot of grief," Sara noted. Erik's nod was barely noticeable. "Erik… I've known you for months now without ever having seen your face. Truly, in my mind that mask _is_ your face. It was frustrating at first, but I feel like it is just part of who you are now. The way I feel about you is completely separate from anything you are hiding under the mask. I don't need to know your face to know how much I care about you. You do realize that, don't you?"

Erik was silent, his gaze deep in his wine glass as though he were divining some fortune from his reflection. "I do. You wouldn't have kissed me otherwise," Erik reasoned. "But Sara, accidents happen, they _have_ happened. If something happens and I'm forced to be around you without my mask… I would never recover from the heartbreak that would cause."

"Fear comes from facing the unknown, doesn't it?" Sara asked, and when Erik was silent she pressed again. "Doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does."

"No matter what situation," Sara continued. "Fear is always caused by the unknown. I would be afraid of a man coming at me because I do not know his intent, and if I _do_ know his intent I do not know the aftermath. I would be afraid of a bear because I fear death and its uncertainties, not because a bear is unknown. I fear Reza's death because I have no idea how to live my life without him. Erik… I _know_ you. I know you would never harm one hair on my head. I know you have a beautiful soul, no matter how you may pretend to be to entertain the Sultana. I'm not afraid of you no matter what your face looks like because the only unknowns you bring to mind are exciting ones."

"Talk is cheap," Erik said simply. "Instinct is real – if Nadir came at your with a knife you would still flinch even if you did not think he would hurt you."

"And then I would laugh and ask my brother what on earth had gotten into him," Sara countered, trying to coax his eyes up to meet hers with a smile. "A kneejerk reaction has nothing to do with my thoughts or feelings."

"Stand by your words, then." Erik challenged, suddenly meeting her gaze again with his head held high defiantly. "Take off my mask, have a good look at what I really am and kiss me if you find you can stomach such a thing."

"_Only_ if you swear to let me react before passing judgment on me," Sara countered. "If I'm wrong and for some reason my mind is changed after seeing your face, I will tell you so, plainly and clearly."

"Very well."

"I want you to swear it," Sara pressed. "You have a short temper, and I know this is a tender subject for you; I want your word."

"I swear I will not react until you do," Erik promised, and Sara nodded her approval.

Carefully, Sara reached up toward his face and to her surprise found her own heart racing in the process. What if she wasn't as strong as she thought she was? Was she really so selfish and little that her feelings might change for him because of the way he looked? There was no way to know unless she tried…

A thin strap held the mask flush to Erik's face, the same color as his raven-black hair. By tracing her fingers along the edge of the mask Sara found the strap, using that as a pivot point to lift the black leather up off his face.

Even before she had removed the mask entirely, Sara's frantic heartbeat stopped for a moment in her chest. Erik's "scars" as he had called them were not quite that, but rather the opposite; it looked as though he had suffered some great injury that simply had decided not to heal. The Magician's flesh was thin and venous, as transparent as the parchment he had sent to Nadir only days before and tinged the same shade of yellow. His cheeks were gaunt and hollow, flesh held up only by his prominent cheekbones before sinking back down into the pits of his eyes.

The most alarming site was the chasm in the center of Erik's face where there ought to have been a nose.

Erik's anxiety went unnoticed as she covered her mouth with her hands in shock, her eyes welling with tears. "Did… did someone do this to you?" She breathed, her voice little more than a whisper although they were completely alone.

"No. I was born like this."

"Does it hurt?"

"The mask rubs it raw sometimes, and my skin is thin enough without the added friction," Erik explained fingering a sore just under his cheekbone. "But otherwise it doesn't hurt."

Sara raised her hand before hesitating. "May I?" She asked, and Erik made a small gesture for her to continue. The young woman traced her fingers along the sunken skin of his cheek, lightly as though she were afraid to tear his paper-thin flesh. It was the first and only time Erik had felt a hand other than his own across his bare flesh, and the sensation was overwhelming. He turned his head away from her touch and wiped fiercely at his eyes, and Sara immediately pulled her hand back to her chest.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't hurt you did I?"

Her voice was wrought with distress from both the sight of him and the thought that she might have harmed him, and Erik shook his head.

"No, I just…"

He could find no words to explain why he had pulled away so suddenly. "If you want to leave now I understand. You have been more than surprising already," he murmured, but Sara remained in her seat.

With great care, Sara leaned forward and placed a kiss on Erik's lips. Erik quickly pulled away, his eyes wide with surprise at the touch. Sara pursed her lips. "I can't win with you, can I? You have your mind set that no one will ever care enough about you to –"

Erik's lips captured hers, swallowing her words as he kissed her passionately. Sara hummed in surprise and delight as her eyes slid closed and her arms wrapped around Erik's neck to keep him close.

"I should have made _you_ swear not to judge me without letting me react first," Erik teased as Sara nuzzled the place where Erik's jaw met his neck contentedly.

"Stop talking and kiss me again."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** Thanks to those of you who flagged me on the error! I'd accidentally posted a chapter to Ashes and Wine that's stuck in my doc manager!

* * *

"Travel safe," Sara bid standing with Reza near the stables where her brother and Erik were mounting horses. "I still can't believe you're leaving," she said, this time only to Erik as she walked up to his horse to stroke its mane.

Construction was set to begin upon Erik's arrival at the grounds a day's ride south from the palace on the coast of Mazandaran where he had taken up residence nine months prior. Those nine months had been some of the most eventful in Sara's life. Less than a year she had very little to hope for in life; here she was today with her darling nephew ill, her own brother spearheading a slow moving but long-overdue revolution, and a man she loved fiercely but in secret both for his sake and hers.

The mirrored forest had become a sanctuary for them, a place they could meet in complete secret and abandon all worry. Life in the forest was beautiful at a time the world outside was becoming dark and dangerous. It was a place where Sara could forget the Sultana and the wicked games she played simply to cause trouble, a place where she could be free from worry that the Reza's every breath might be his last. In the forest there was only she and Erik and the beauty they created there.

Erik was nothing but a gentleman with her, even though it would be quite the scandal if they were ever caught in such a secluded place as the forest without an escort. While their kisses had grown more passionate and intimate since the dawn of their romance and more than once Sara found herself aching to be touched more intimately still, Erik had always pulled away of his own accord however frustrated it might have made them both.

And a good thing too; the morning prior to Erik's departure, the Sultana ordered Sara to be seen by a physician and their virginity reaffirmed. She had not dared tell Erik about the incident, although it bothered her greatly; either the Sultana knew about her outings in seclusion with Erik, or there was a bid for her hand in marriage. But what good would it do to worry Erik about it when he would be so far away and so terribly busy? Likely she was worrying for no reason at all.

"I'm less than a day away if I ride quickly," Erik promised. "If anything happens you can write to me and I'll be back before you know. Besides, it's not as if I'm leaving for good. I'll be back twice a month for a few days on end, and once the main

"How long do you think it will take?"

"It will probably be five years or so until its full completion," Erik admitted. "But I'll only need to be on site for the first year or so and can simply visit after that. If the Sultan gives me more men and funds, we'll be done in far less time than that."

Sara wrinkled her nose at the thought. "Will I be able to visit you at all?"

"Not without spreading rumors," Erik advised with a smug grin, leaning forward to place his hand on top of hers.

Conspiratorially Sara laced their fingers and squeezed his hand. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too."

A smile crept on Sara's face. "You do?"

Erik smiled in turn. "I love you more than any man has loved a woman before," he confided before lamenting. "How badly I want to kiss you now! Look inside the music box I gave you, I left you something."

"Come along, Erik, we're losing daylight," Nadir pressed, and Erik sat up in the saddle again to urge his horse back around toward the Daroga. "I'll be back in three days, Reza. Be good for your Sara. Sara, if you need anything –"

"I know where to find you. Really, Nadir, it's only three days. We'll be fine," she promised, saying her goodbyes and standing with Reza by the gates until well after the men were out of sight.

* * *

Returning home, Sara managed to feed Reza a meager meal and dress him for bed, even to read him a story before her curiosity overcame her. Finally she moved to the music box kept next to her bed and lifted the lid. Inside the velvet-lined interior was a small folded piece of paper and under that a small gold ring.

With nimble fingers she unfolded the letter

_My love,_

_How strange that is to write! I don't believe I've told you yet as I write this that I love you, but I do. I shall have to be sure to tell you before I leave. I love you, Sara Khan. For the first time in my life I find myself with a reason to stay in place that is greater than myself. Damn the money, and damn the power; where you are is where I desire to stay, wherever that may be. _

_I dread these days that we will be apart. You told me once you were unsure if you would have a choice in husband. Choose me, Sara, as I should have chosen you. Say you will make me the luckiest man alive and you will live like a queen for as long as I am alive to make it happen. I worship you, Sara, and want nothing more to continue doing so until the day I die._

_If you have any doubts of the sincerity of my proposal, consider the ring I have enclosed. I forged and inscribed it myself to capture a piece of my heart in it for you. The inscription inside is French," __À toi, pour toujours"__ and means __"Forever yours"._

_À toi, pour toujours, mon Amour_

_Erik_

Heart leaping in her chest, Sara picked up the ring and glanced inside the band. A broad and giddy grin took over her face when she saw the inscription inside matched exactly the French script in Erik's letter. Sara placed the ring on her wedding finger, holding up her hand to admire it and allowing herself a girlish giggle at the sight before immediately taking up a stylus and blank sheet of parchment to respond.

_My beloved,_

_Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! I wear your ring now even as I write this, having to stop myself from screaming with joy and waking little Reza. I have never been happier in all my life, but I know in my heart I will be happier still when you come home to me and I can tell you in person that yes, I will be your bride._

_I worry for you though, Erik. The handwriting in your note is poor; you're not ill I hope? If so please make Nadir stay with you until you are well again. I cannot bear to think of you alone and sick around strangers. And please, if you are well write me immediately so that I may stop worrying about my future husband._

_If only there were words to express my joy and excitement! I suppose it is a blessing there are not – this letter might be too long for the postman to deliver to you._

_Come home to me soon,_

_Your betrothed_

* * *

"I'm sorry for taking you so far from your son at such a time," Erik remarked as his horse walked alongside the Daroga's at a steady pace. They carried with them the most secret documents for the palace's construction along with a handful of specific tools Erik had requested to aid him in his work. Aside from cargo and the horses, Erik and Nadir traveled alone.

"I'm willing to blame the dangerous conditions of the road if you are," Nadir dismissed.

"Any one of your men could have escorted me, and I doubt their boys are as ill as yours."

The Daroga shook his head. "It is best I came. The biggest danger on the road right now are the revolutionaries. If they suspect you carry the Sultan's money, they would not hesitate a moment to relieve you of it," he explained. "With me with you, they will leave us alone."

"I could handle a few thieves," Erik mused, glancing over at the man who patted his horse's neck.

"I don't think I would like your version of handling things. If you are on our side it's best you don't earn a reputation for killing our friends."

Erik nodded his bow of defeat. "Fair point."

Nadir continued, "Besides, he is in good hands with Sara. She's become quite the nurse since he was born, I trust her with him."

"As well you should; she loves him dearly. No harm will come to him under her watch."

"Speaking of Sara," Nadir segued, looking straight ahead of him deliberately. "You two seemed to be having quite a conversation before we left."

"Did we?" Erik asked, his voice deliberately naïve.

"Indeed. What were you speaking about?"

Erik's smile came unbidden at the memory, but his voice remain controlled. "I merely told her that I love her. I left her a note telling her the rest."

"I guessed it had something to do with that," the Daroga sighed gently. "Love, eh?"

"Indeed. I asked her to marry me," Erik added, looking again to Nadir to judge his reaction.

The Daroga was holding his cards close to his chest. "It wasn't so long ago that I was in love and determined to be married," he mused. "Although it seems like centuries now."

"How did you find the experience?"

Nadir paused to consider this. "Intoxicating," he said finally. "I am a terrible example for her, aren't I? I can't tell her to wait for a better time when I was so eager to be married I eloped."

"You would advise her against marrying me?" Erik asked, a brow raised under the mask. "A bold thing to admit alone on the road with to a man you know to be a killer."

The Daroga merely scoffed at his threat, knowing it to be empty. "I advise you against marrying her also, Erik, and not for reasons I know you're accusing me of. I don't know if you are a good fit for her or she for you, but who ever knows such things? I know you are a dangerous man given the right mind, but I've seen you with her and with Reza and I've come to doubt you could hurt any woman or child even if I am certain you can wreak havoc among men. Even at your angriest with her before you feel now, you were no real threat to her, even if you did raise your hand. I don't think you would have actually struck her."

Erik fell quiet for a moment. "You have more faith in me than I do in myself. I have never harmed a woman intentionally, but two now have died as a direct result of knowing me."

"Hestia died as a direct result of the _Sultana_, not of you. Dare I ask who the other is?"

"She was my master's daughter, when I lived in Rome. She fell to her death after seeing my face."

Nadir sighed and shook his head. "For a man who has committed so many wicked deeds you have an awfully guilty conscience, Erik."

"I was brought up Catholic," he explained, half jokingly and the Daroga laughed heartily.

"That does explain it then! Erik, you did not cause the death of either girl; one was outright murder, the other was purely an accident you simply witnessed."

"And that is your official statement?"

Nadir nodded curtly. "Yes, as Daroga of Mazanderan that is my official verdict on the matter, and I will hear no more of it."

Accepting the man's judgment and oddly feeling more at peace because of it, Erik spoke again. "Why do you disapprove of our marriage, if not because of me?"

"These are dangerous times, Erik. Sara might look like a woman, but she has the tender heart of a girl still. There will be violence soon, and whether you participate directly or not you have already involved yourself irreversibly. And then there is the matter of whether you will stay in Persia, and for how long."

Erik was about to protest when Nadir held up his hand. "It is no fault of yours, Erik, but believe me when I say I have met men like you and even their best intents do not keep them in place for long. How long have you ever stayed in one place, Erik? Five, six years?"

"Eight if you include birth until the day I ran away," Erik remarked. "Five if you do not."

"And how long do you think a marriage lasts?"

"Until my dead, of course, or God forbid hers," the masked man admitted.

"Unless you plan on dying in the next five years and I very much doubt you do, that is a very long time to stay in one place, especially a place so foreign to you as Persia. Think about it, Erik. You will be married in a time of war and its aftermath, you will need to raise children, be a father to them and a wife to Sara for the rest of your life. My worry for Sara is similar – I do not think her heart is strong enough to be worrying for you for so long. If times were peaceful, if the revolution is over swiftly and the aftermath settles into peace, then I would have no qualms. Until then…"

"You sound as though you would talk any young couple out of marrying," Erik countered.

"Any young pair in love, absolutely."

"Yet you married your own wife –"

"At the cost of her life," Nadir snapped. "She was a dead woman the day I married her. If I had only waited we might have had Reza later, or not at all, and she would still be alive!"

Immediately the man grew silent, and Erik watched him with surprise while they walked on. It was the most emotional he had ever seen the man, and the first and only time he had ever expressed true regret. The man lived as close to the law and as close to God as Erik had ever seen any man come; he had thought regret was a plague that would have passed the Daroga entirely.

"You gave your judgment; for what it's worth, I give you mine. You did not cause you wife's death, Nadir. I've seen even strong women die of illnesses that should have been so simple. As for Sara, she is as strong a woman as they come, even if you cannot see it. I have no doubts she will be able to whether the coming storm with me at her side or not, but I would rather be the one by her side than watch her marry some fool who does not know how she should be treated."

The Daroga took a deep breath and nodded. "I suppose you're right. She will wind up married whether you are her bridegroom or not. And I for one would much rather it be you than one of the Sultan's brown-nosing little courtiers."

In spite of the gravity of their conversation, Erik laughed bawdily. "Strong words from a Prince in a land where princes outnumber grains of sand in the desert," he teased, and Nadir shot him a sidelong glance.

"Careful, Magician; I hold every right to revoke my consent."


	13. Chapter 13

Although Reza was in his studies, Sara felt terrible for having to leave the apartment for even a moment. What if something happened and he needed to be brought home while she was here in the harem with these squabbling women. Normally Sara didn't mind her fellow ladies-in-waiting much. Their gossip was dull and their praises of the Sultana empty, and on the rare occasions one of them had a true emergency the harem provided a means of support Sara could almost admire.

Today however, the gossip caught Sara's attention.

"I'm glad he's gone," one woman said, braiding the hair of another. "He's a demon. Do you feel how much lighter the air is since he's been gone?"

"Who?" Sara interjected, and both women glanced at her in surprise; it was a rare occasion that Sara spoke at all, let alone participated in the conversation.

"The Magician, Hestia's widower," the woman explained before continuing. "Poor Hestia. You know they say anyone who sees his face dies soon after. She was doomed from the beginning."

"That isn't true," Sara spoke again, surprising the whole room now. Suddenly the center of attention, she flushed.

"An entire troupe of Gypsies and our own Hestia died after seeing his face," another woman said. "How can you say it isn't true?"

Sara opened her mouth as if to speak before hesitating a moment; was this her secret to tell? "I… I've seen his face, and I'm still here."

Immediately, the women moved around Sara clearly expecting her to continue her story. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, one of the women spoke up. "When did you see it?"

"What was it like?"

Sara fidgeted with her hands as she spoke. "Six weeks ago. But I don't know if I should say," she pressed, but the women were not satisfied.

"How did it happen?"

"Does he really look like a corpse?"

"Did your nephew see his face? Maybe that's why –"

It was then that Sara interrupted. "Don't you dare blame Reza's illness on Erik, you know he was sick long before Erik ever came here," she snapped.

One woman raised a brow while the others had already begun whispering. "You're on a first name basis with the Magician?"

Quickly Sara backtracked. "He lived with my brother and I, he didn't like being called Magician and asked Nadir and I to call him by name at home."

"That's not what I've heard. I hear you've been sneaking around with him for some time now," the woman who first spoke against Erik said. "Remind us again how you came to see his face?"

"I… He showed it to me," Sara explained, unwilling to say more and wishing she could vanish. "We're friends –"

"_Friends_? That man had Hestia killed!"

"It wasn't his fault," Sara persisted. "You should have seen him after, he was heartbroken over it!"

"He has no soul, I doubt he was heartbroken over anything. I'm sure it was a ruse to win you over. A man and a woman can never be friends, especially not a man like that who walks around like women should be throwing themselves into his bed."

"I have to go –" Sara said, standing for only a moment before she was pressed back into her seat and her left hand lifted up.

"What a beautiful ring, Sara. I've never noticed it before. But you're wearing it on the wrong hand…"

Sara ripped her hand away and escaped from the room before tears of frustration and guilt began to fall from her face.

Nadir was just arriving home from his trip escorting Erik when Sara came barreling through the door in tears. He went to her immediately, taking her in his arms and rocking the young woman like he had when she was a child.

"I made a mistake, Nadir. I was just trying to defend him but now they know…" she cried, and Nadir lifted her head off his shoulder to wipe away her tears.

"Calm yourself, Sara, and start from the beginning. Who knows what?"

After a few deep breaths, Sara managed to explain how she had spoken up for Erik and that the harem had so quickly guessed their tryst.

"They were like a pack of wolves, Nadir. They latched on and wouldn't let go… and I'm sorry. I should have told you Erik and I were seeing each other," she apologized, suddenly realizing how startling this must have been for her brother to hear all at once. "I was going to tell you as soon as I got home but those harpies got to me first."

"Erik told me on our trip," Nadir explained. "And I've suspected you were sneaking off with him for while. So long as you weren't doing anything to ruin our reputation I was content not to say anything. Sara, did you really expect an engagement to be kept secret for long while you're wearing his ring?"

The woman nodded and wiped at her eyes, sitting down. "No one ever notices me, I didn't think anything of it. I keep myself out of the way enough where I thought if they did notice they wouldn't both being curious enough to ask. And what am I supposed to do, not wear it at all? What's the point of an engagement then?"

"To let people know you will be married," Nadir countered. "Certainly not to keep it a secret."

Sara leaned her head back and looked at the ceiling with a quiet sigh. "I suppose I should write him and let him know what happened. Word travels far too fast in this place, and I would rather he hear it from me."

* * *

_My Darling Erik,_

_I've made an enormous mistake. In defending you from rumors in the harem, I'm afraid they now suspect our engagement. It won't be long until the rumors spread, since you are of such interest to the Sultan and his wife. This place thrives on rumors and gossip. Promise me that when we are married you will take me to live in a place people keep to themselves and live in peace?_

_Missing you every moment of every day,_

_Sara_

* * *

The letter never reached its intended destination, nor did any of the letters Erik wrote ever reach their recipient in the palace. Weeks passed with neither Erik nor Sara hearing a word from the other, and Erik's temper was quickly put on edge.

Construction was going splendidly, but the days were long and the weeks afforded little rest. Although he was supposed to travel back to the palace, a sudden heavy rainfall kept Erik on site protecting the passageways he had begun but not yet finished from becoming inundated with rainfall. In the weeks following the flood, a terrible flu swept through the site crippling nearly every man including Erik for a solid week and killing two.

But still he wrote, through rain and fever to promise his love and reassure Sara that he would be back at her side as soon as he was able. In ever letter he mentioned his eagerness to hear from her, but a responding letter never came.

Erik's disappointment and frustration was felt throughout the site, with his men learning to avoid him daily after the post arrived. Rumors had begun to spread that the Magician had a sweetheart back in the palace who had abandoned him, which enraged Erik even further.

The arrival of the Daroga nearly two months after the construction began surprised everyone, none more so than Erik.

Stepping from his tent, Erik's hands were clasped behind his back as Nadir approached on horseback. "What a surprise. I haven't reported any crimes, what brings you here?"

"I need to speak with you, Erik. In private," he explained, eying the men around them as he dismounted.

"I am busy, Nadir, can't it –"

"_Now,_ Erik. We may already be out of time."

The urgency in Nadir's voice made it clear that he was quite serious, and Erik held open the flap of his tent to allow the Daroga to enter.

"Is something wrong with Reza?" Erik asked, concerned.

As soon as the tent flap was closed behind them, Nadir turned and spoke. "Sara is going to be married, Erik. She was taken from our apartments this morning, I have no idea when the ceremony is taking place."

Erik's eyes narrowed into slits and his voice sank into a growl. "_What_?"

"Two men came in at the crack of dawn and ordered her with them to prepare for the wedding. She had no idea what was happening until I pressed one of them and he said she was bought and paid for and should be groomed for the ceremony. I am begging you to come and put a stop to this."

Without any hesitation, Erik grabbed his saddle bag and moved outside to find fresh horses for himself and the Daroga before riding off as quickly as the beasts would carry them north towards the palace.

"Tell me one thing, Daroga – why has she not been writing me?" Erik asked as they rode, driving his horse ever faster.

"She has been. I'm guessing by your question you've been writing her?"

"Daily. She's not receiving my letters," Erik realized, and the Daroga shook his head before shouting over the wind.

"No. She was afraid when you didn't come back when you were supposed to that you had abandoned her, but enough letters have been getting through from your workers to their wives that we heard about the flood, and about the illness and thought you must have been held up. Still she's been torn up about never hearing from you."

"This is the Sultana's doing," Erik said, confident and angry. "I am going to kill that woman, Daroga. Mark my words."

* * *

The bridegroom was a wealthy courtier named Ahriman. Eager as ever to win the Sultan's favor and just as eager for a pretty new bride to add to his family, when the opportunity arose to take on Sara Khan, Ahriman leapt at the opportunity. Beautiful and royal in her own right, it was an easy decision to make. He only wished his new bride were as satisfied with the arrangement as he was.

The young woman struggled through the entire ceremony, refusing to speak a word of her vows until forced into submission by a eunuch with a few swift strikes of a riding crop to her lovely backside. It was Ahriman who had come to her rescue, insisting that the punishment was too severe and offering Sara a hand to help her back to her feet. It was only then that the woman relented and spoke through her vows with clenched teeth and tears in her eyes.

He waited for her now in his chambers, eager to consummate the marriage and claim his lovely bride's virginity. What a treat! His first wife, a woman his own age who had already borne him two children was not nearly so satisfying as she had been on their wedding night, and even on that night had not been half as beautiful as Sara Khan.

Just then, the door opened and Sara was escorted inside, draped in silk robe that clung to her curves enticingly. The silk was as eager to escape her naked flesh as Ahriman was for it to fall.

Seeing the hunger in the man's eyes when he stood, Sara took a step back. "Please… Please let me say something before the night continues."

With a slightly raised brow, Ahriman gestured for her to continue.

"I'm engaged to another man, My Lord. The Magician, Erik. I love him more than anything on this earth. My Lord… have mercy on me, like you did during the ceremony. It isn't too late to call off the marriage."

Ahriman scoffed, and any hope Sara was harboring vanished. "The Magician? Ha! My lovely bride, if he had any claim over you he's lost it by now. You are paid for, and I have no plans of giving up the small fortune a virgin costs these days."

When he began to approach her, Sara took another step back but was stopped by the guards at the door. "If you make me go through with this, know that I will never feel anything for you but hate in my heart."

"I didn't buy your love, woman, I bought your hand in marriage," he countered, reaching forward to grab her hand when a loud series of pounds rang at the door.

"Sara? Are you there?"

The woman's heart leapt in her chest as she turned toward the door and attempted to reach through the guards to unlock the door. "Erik! Yes Erik I'm here! Please, unlock the doors and let him in," she begged of one of the guards before Ahriman ripped her away from the door.

Sara's shriek filled the room and the pounding on the door intensified until one of the guards with sword in hand finally unlocked the door to chase off the Magician.

What happened next occurred at a dizzying speed. Something small and silver snaked out of Erik's hand and around one guard's throat before Sara could tell what it might be while Erik pulled the second guard close and stabbed him through the heart in an one strong, swift motion. Ahriman made no move to release Sara, but held her in front of him as he backed away from the masked man.

Erik allowed the stabbed man to fall to the ground before finally retrieving the thin rope from around the neck of the other guard who was on the ground himself now, blue in the face and quite dead.

"You'll have to kill her first if you're going to kill me," Ahriman reasoned.

The Magician only sneered. "Don't be so sure. Do you know what this is?" Erik asked, holding out the thin rope in his hands. "It's called a Punjab Lasso. Blood is so… messy and violent, but the Punjab Lasso allows me to take a life with such ease and grace. It is a favorite tool of the Thugs in India. Or did you not know I am one of theirs when you decided to take my betrothed as your bride?"

All color had drained from the man's face while Erik taunted him when suddenly Sara bit down hard on the hand that covered her mouth. Ahriman shouted and released the woman, who darted out of his grip just as the Punjab Lasso flew from Erik's hands and around the courtier's throat. With a quick tug the garrote was secure and Erik strode forward to push the struggling man to the ground, falling atop him to hold the rope in place until at last the man's life faded from his body.

Erik removed the rope from the man's neck and stood, turning to find Sara trembling in the corner of the room as she held the robe tightly around her. Recognizing her shock, he approached the woman carefully and offered out his hand for her.

"You… you killed them, all of them."

"There could be no witnesses," Erik explained. "If he was going to let me take you quietly he would have unlocked the door like a gentleman and let me in to discuss the matter."

"You wouldn't have discussed anything, you were raging even before you were certain I was here," Sara pressed, remembering how frantic and violent the knocks on the door had been.

Erik pursed his lips, knowing she was right; he would have killed the man and anyone else in the room without thought even if he had been let in immediately.

"We need to leave. You need to tell your brother what happened here before the bodies stiffen."

Sara's eyes widened. "But Erik, you'll –"

"You need to tell your brother the guard went mad and strangled your husband and the other guard before killing himself," Erik explained, and Sara nodded numbly.

Erik turned away and was just about to move to the door, cursing himself and certain he had ruined whatever love Sara still had in her heart for him when suddenly she wrapped her arms around him from behind.

When he turned, Sara's eyes were filled with tears and she buried her face in his chest. "I love you, Erik. I've missed you so much. I'm so glad you came for me."

"What else could I do?" Erik said, holding her close.


	14. Chapter 14

"We need to have a talk."

Nadir found Erik in his old apartment, the door left open a crack presumably in case Sara came to see him. The masked man was sitting in a plush chair, leaning forward with his hands clasped together under his chin deep in thought.

"I had a feeling you would want o see me," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

The Daroga did not take the offered seat. "You killed _three_ men in front of my little sister, Erik."

"Is that what she told you?" Erik asked, sitting back in the chair to watch the Daroga for a reaction.

"She told me some absurd story about a guard gone mad," Nadir explained, arms folded. "Two of those men were strangled and the other was dead before he hit the floor. That isn't the mark of a homicidal guard, it's the mark of an assassin."

Erik laced his fingers in my lap. "If that is your opinion, arrest me then."

After a heavy sigh, Nadir sat across from the man. "I'm not going to arrest you. For one, I have no evidence it was you. Even if you were to look me in the eye now and confess… I cannot arrest you. It would mean your death and breaking my sister's heart. She is torn up over what happened as it is. But Erik, in lieu of your arrest I want you to make me a promise."

The masked man pursed his lips before speaking. "I'm listening."

"No more deaths, Erik. If you are here as an assassin, I won't have it. If you cannot abide by that, I ask you now to leave Mazandaran. It is better for everyone, including Sara if you walk out of this city today rather than kill again. Am I understood?"

"Strong words for a man plotting a revolution."

"You killed three men in cold blood, Erik," Nadir growled. "I won't have it, not in my province. Do I have your word?"

After a long, thoughtful moment, Erik nodded and extended his hand to bind the promise. "You have my word, no more killing."

Nadir shook the man's hand before leaning back himself. "May I have a look at the garrote? I've been curious about what the Thugs are using for a long time."

Reaching into his pocket, Erik withdrew the Punjab Lasso and offered it to Nadir. The Daroga accepted the rope, intrigued by its size; the rope was thin and light, but felt strong. There was a noose expertly tied to one end that slid with alarming ease.

"It's discrete," Nadir commented. "No one would suspect it coming."

"I can hide it in my sleeve if necessary. I've been tempted to use it on you once or twice," Erik added, amusement in his voice.

Nadir gave a quiet chuckle before handing back the noose. "Every man deserves the right to protect himself, so I'll allow you to keep it. You should go see Sara," he continued after a moment. "She's not well."

Erik frowned some. "What's wrong with her?"

"She hasn't left her room since she came home last night. She's been alternating between sleeping and crying."

"Have you told her anything?"

"I haven't had the time to talk to her. She doesn't even know you've been writing, so you have a good bit of work ahead of you."

Glancing toward the door, Erik took a small breath. "I suppose I do."

Erik knocked on the door to Sara's room quietly before letting himself inside. The woman seemed to be asleep, curled in her bed with the blankets pulled up to her chin. Seating himself beside her bed, Erik pushed aside a strand of hair that had fallen in her face. Even in sleep, there was worry etched on her face.

How quickly life had collapsed! Before he left to build the Sultan's new palace, life was beautiful. Erik had every plan to make Sara his wife and to spend every day finding ways to make her happy. There was no need for her to know the darker parts of his past, with only the future ahead of them. It was a past he would rather forget himself… now that life was impossible.

Sara had said she loved him, but did she still? Now that she'd had time to think about what he had done, could she still marry him? Erik knew he wouldn't blame her if she had changed her mind, but it would break his heart even so. Could he uphold his promise to Nadir if Sara could not love him anymore?

"When did you get here?"

Sara's voice pulled Erik from his thoughts. "Not long," he promised, through really he had no idea how long he had been dwelling on the terrible possibilities that might await when she woke. "Your brother said you weren't well."

"He exaggerated. I'm fine," Sara lied, and Erik frowned.

Her lie didn't hold up long. "…What did you do before you came to Persia, Erik?"

"I was a traveling magician, and a pickpocket," Erik said, continuing before she could protest. "Occasionally, I was a hired assassin. I learned the art in India with the Thugee cult."

Sara took a shaking breath and nodded her understanding. "I… why didn't you ever tell me? I never thought…"

"It's not a part of my life I'm proud of. It was a dark time in my life I thought I was past."

When Sara sat up, Erik noticed she was still in the robe he had found her in the night before; she really had been in bed all day. "How did it happen? You're such a _good_ man, how does someone like you become a…"

The worlds failed her, but Erik understood her meaning. "A murderer? Sara, I am not a good man. I've never pretended to be, but I was in trouble back then. There has never been a darker time in my life than when I was with the Thugs. I tried to kill myself, more than once, but I was always too much of a coward to go finish the job. The more I killed the more I wanted to die, I was never satisfied."

Tears were flowing freely down Sara's face and she wiped at her eyes. "Is that why you left?"

"Yes. We were passing through a town one day and I saw a young family, the husband about my age now with a pretty little wife and a new baby girl… and I realized I was not ready to die. I was not only unprepared to die, _that_ was the life I wanted. I wanted to be loved and respected, with a family of my own. I knew it was little more than a dream for someone like me, but it was impossible for as long as I stayed with the Thugs."

Sara reached out and took his hand, laced with her fingers with his and squeezed. "You're a good man, whether you believe it or not. But… Erik, please promise me you won't kill again. Their deaths weigh so heavy on my heart, and the idea of blood on your hands…"

"Let the blood on my hands be my burden," Erik bade. "I have no plans to kill again, Sara, you have my word, but if someone puts you in harm's way again I cannot make any promises."

With pursed lips, Sara nodded her understanding. "…I am glad you came for me. I feel guilty for saying it, but I am. I want to be _your_ wife, and the mother of _your_ children. We'll be like that family you saw one day, Erik," she promised, smiling for the first time since she had been taken from her bed the previous morning.

A small smile crept onto Erik's face and he leaned forward to kiss her gently. "I'll let you sleep now."

"Please stay?" Sara asked suddenly, gripping his hand again. "I haven't seen you in so long."

After a moment of hesitation, knowing she needed sleep but having missed her terribly, Erik agreed and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He told her about life to the south, about his tent and the letters he'd written her. In turn, Sara told him about the horrible way their engagement had been found out and about the letters she'd written him also.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Sara changed the subject to something that had been bothering her. "What is going to happen to me now, Erik?"

"The same thing that happened to me, I expect. You'll be called a Widow even though the marriage was never consummated, and left alone. I don't think you should be worried," Erik added, kissing Sara lightly.

It had been so long since Sara and Erik had been alone together it was only moments before the kiss deepened and their hands began to wander. The taste of Sara's lips was more intoxicating than wine, salty though they were from the tears she'd shed during the day. She hummed throatily while Erik's kisses trailed from her mouth to her neck and Erik gripped at her hair, intensely aroused by the sound. It was too soon to let her go, but if he didn't -

Sara said something, repeating herself when Erik did not understand. "Who knows the marriage wasn't consummated?"

"Anyone who examined you could tell," the masked man pointed, moving his mouth back to hers.

"What if," Sara began, pausing for a moment to gasp into his mouth before continuing. "What if I wasn't a virgin when they examine me?"

Every muscle in Erik's body tensed and a deep growl began in his throat before Sara realized what he was thinking and kissed him desperately. "He didn't touch me, Erik, not like that," she promised. "I'm still a virgin. What I meant is… no one would know the difference if I wasn't tomorrow morning, would they?"

"…No, I don't suppose they would," Erik admitted, his body relaxing with her promise and the warmth of her kisses. "But we aren't married, it isn't right."

"We're going to be," Sara pointed out, her breath catching in her throat when his hand brushed against her breast before gripping his shirt to stop him and meet his gaze. "Erik if I'm still a virgin tomorrow it means the Sultana can sell me again just as easily. What if you don't make it back in time when it happens again?"

Erik's jaw tightened; she was right, of course. With their letters having been stolen, it was likely the Sultana had arranged this marriage as just another game; she would do it again given the chance. The idea of any other man touching Sara, tasting her skin, hearing her gasp… the very thought enraged the Magician and broke his heart.

Without saying a word Erik kissed her again, giving his answer. The alternative was unacceptable; Erik knew he would never survive Sara's marriage to another man when the thought alone made him sick to his stomach. She was his and his alone, and the protective longing in his heart was felt in his kiss.

Naked under her wedding night robe, Sara gave up the fight to keep the silk over her shoulders and bared her breasts, hissing with pleasure when Erik's hands roamed over them and groped possessively. Her hands made quick work of Erik's clothes, breaking their kisses only long enough for him to kick off his boots discard of his robes. Sara's own hands were surprisingly greedy, skimming along every inch of Erik's chest and back as she admired his form. He was lean and strong, his flesh broken only by the occasional scar. Sara ran her leg along his when he moved atop her, reaching up to discard his mask but was stopped.

"Leave it."

"But Erik –" Sara breathed, but Erik silence her with a kiss.

"Just this time. Until we're better acquainted," he said, and Sara gave up her fight. She wanted him so badly she dared not risk ruining the moment simply to have her way.

The pain was not as bad as she had heard, more of a deep pressure than the stabbing sensation she had imagined. It was a strange sensation that faded into a distractingly pleasant one, her mind suddenly unable to comprehend nothing but her intense love and desire for the man inside her while her toes curled and her heart raced.

Neither lasted long, too aroused and too new to intimacy to control themselves when the moment came. A warm, pleasantly numb feeling swept over Sara from between her legs to the top of her head, only moments after Erik collapsed over her with a groan, his weight a comforting burden.

When he tried to move his weight off of her, Sara kept him close and breathed heavily into his neck. "I love you, Erik."

"I love you, Sara," Erik promised, moving just enough to pull the blankets over them and holding her close. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," Sara answered quickly with a reassuring kiss. "It was wonderful. Was I-" She trailed off, unsure of how to ask if she had lived up to his expectations.

"Amazing," he vowed with a peck. "Beautiful," he added with another peck. "Perfect, wonderful, superb, breathtaking, brilliant," he promised again and again, punctuating each praise with a kiss and causing Sara to giggle.

"I'm so lucky," she murmured, more tired now than even moments before. "Of all the women in Persia, in the entire world I'm the one you chose."

"No man has ever loved anyone as much as I love you," Erik stated so simply Sara had no choice but to believe him, and she buried her face in his chest to breathe him in deeply.

* * *

Sara was already up and cooking by the time Nadir rose the next morning, apparently in a far better mood than he had last seen her in; he could hear her humming in the kitchen. He dressed and left his room, stopping just outside the kitchen when he heard a muffled male voice speaking coyly, followed by Sara's soft giggle and a teasing response. When he stepped into the doorway, the man's voice proved to be Erik's as he stood next to Sara, his arm low around her waist as he whispered something in her ear that made her flush and nod conspiratorially.

"You're here awfully early," Nadir remarked, and Sara jumped and separated from Erik, concentrating on her cooking.

"Am I?" Erik asked naively. Sara's barely stifled giggle did not go unnoticed.

"Yes. If I didn't know better I'd say you spent the night," the Daroga pressed.

"It's a good thing you know better," Erik agreed, and Nadir narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"Don't try and make a fool of me, Erik. Sara, I found something of yours last night I thought you might want back."

The young woman turned to face him and tipped her head curiously. Nadir reached into one of his pockets and pulled out the gold engagement band Erik had made for her, placing it on the table. "I don't recommend wearing it again just yet. Remember that you're supposed to be in mourning."

Sara's free hand clasped over her heard as she reached for the ring. "My ring! I never thought I'd see it again… They took it off my hand when they were cleaning me for the marriage ceremony," she explained to Erik before turning back to her brother. "Where did you find it?"

"It was on the body of one of the guards your lover killed," Nadir explained, and Sara flushed deeply. Her reaction was all Nadir needed. "So you did sleep with him! Sara, what were you thinking?"

"Nadir –" Erik began, but the Daroga slammed his fist on the table.

"I'll deal with you in a minute, Erik, I am talking with my half-brained sister. Do you know what will happen to you if anyone finds out, Sara?"

"Leave her alone, Daroga," Erik snapped, his voice filled with power and influence. "Think about the alternative – if she goes the physician this morning a virgin, what then?"

"You're right, Erik, how gracious of you to relieve her of it!" Nadir barked in return. "What happens when you leave for the south again? What happens if she becomes pregnant out of wedlock, Erik, did you stop to think of that?"

"Nadir, we're going to be married as soon as we're both out of mourning. And if you would stop and think a moment, it's safer this way. The Sultana will leave me alone if she thinks that she's won," Sara explained.

"Married? Do you really think after this that the Sultana plans on letting you marry each other? Don't you know she's been reading your letters? She knows you are in love with Erik, Sara, everyone does. But she sold your hand anyway. I heard from one person _she_ approached _Ahriman_ to offer him your hand, not the other way around. She is intent on playing games with the two of you!"

Sara's lips pursed and tears welled in her eyes. "We will be married, the Sultana and her games be damned. We'll elope if we have to; you did it once, or have you forgotten?"

With that, Sara stalked out of the room and back to her bedroom, closing the door behind her and leaving her brother and fiancée alone in the kitchen. Erik glared at the Daroga as he passed.

"She knows what we did is dangerous, Nadir. You don't have to rub her nose in it and scare her even more. But she is right; we will be married no matter what the Sultana allows. She is not my queen, and won't be yours forever either," the masked man growled before stalking from the kitchen, leaving the apartment altogether.

Alone in the kitchen, Nadir sat at the table and sighed.


	15. Chapter 15

A soft knock drew Erik from his work mid-afternoon, and he called to the door. "Who is it?"

"It's me," came Sara's voice, sounding tired but pleasant enough. Immediately Erik stood and moved to the door to open it and let the woman in. "Were you expecting someone else?" She teased gently, and Erik chuckled.

"No, I just wasn't expecting you either and I'm working on something more private than usual," he explained, closing and locking the door behind her. "How are you?"

"Exhausted," Sara admitted. "I was a nervous wreck this morning when they examined me, and then the Sultana had me tell _her_ exactly what happened that night. That's part of why I wanted to see you… she asked why you had suddenly shown up in the palace if you were not somehow involved."

Erik guided his lover to the side of the bed to sit her comfortably, moving to pour hot water from the kettle fire into a cup and filling it with pleasant-smelling tea to steep. "We ought to have practiced your story before I left. What did you tell her?"

"That you might have been involved if you'd arrived sooner, but that you hadn't made it into the city walls by the time the guard went mad. You made a lucky guess too, Erik – the physician said the man had a very old case of malaria which has made sane men go mad before. When she asked why you might have been involved if you'd arrived sooner, I was very tired and perhaps a little too frank with her. I told her she had already read our letters and could make the leap herself."

Erik's laugh sounded like bells, relaxing Sara noticeably. She smiled and took the cup of tea from him when it was ready, the warmth of the cup in her hands already soothing her. "You did the right thing – we know she's heard directly from us about our romance. To deny it now would be foolish."

"This is wonderful, what is it?" Sara asked, raising the cup to indicate what she was talking about while Erik poured a second cup for himself.

"Chamomile and rosehip, but I added some pomegranate juice to the water before boiling it. Sara, is there something else on your mind?" he pressed, knowing her well enough to see she was avoiding something by her sudden interest in the tea.

Sara lowered her eyes and opened her mouth as if to speak before considering her words. "I… yes. I'm worried about what Nadir said this morning. What if he's right, what if we're never allowed to be married?"

"We will be," Erik promised. "Even if we have to wait until your brother is king, which will happen well before we're old and gray."

"What do we do until then? We're going to be apart so often, and especially after…" Sara trailed off, but Erik knew precisely what she meant. After last night, it was going to be next to impossible to spend another night away from her. Falling asleep with her in his arms, waking up to the smell of her skin and hair and the supple curve of her body fit so perfectly against his… it had been perfection until Nadir awoke.

"I'll think of something," Erik promised, leaning to kiss her. Suddenly he smiled against her mouth and Sara glanced up at him with a pout.

"What's so funny?"

"You taste like sugar and pomegranates is all," he promised, kissing her again. "It's making me hungry."

Sara flushed but smiled at the tone in his voice and the way the kiss lingered on her lips. "Shall we make a picnic and visit our forest?" She suggested when Erik's kiss moved to that place on her neck she so adored.

"If I can keep my hands off of you for that long," Erik teased, returning to kiss her quickly on the mouth before standing to pack a basket, leaving Sara giggling on the bed.

The sliding panel into the forest had barely closed, and already Sara was wrapped tight in her betrothed's arms, the picnic completely abandoned. Nothing in the world existed beyond one another as they kissed. Sara was about to undress when Erik stopped her, intent on doing the job himself. He peeled away her clothing with the utmost care, and every time his hands brushed against her bare flesh shivers ran down her spine. She flushed some, standing naked in front of him for the first time while his eyes ran over her flesh. They had been naked together last night; why was she suddenly feeling so self-conscious?

"Hestia stood in front of me like this on the night she refused me," Erik explained, continuing before Sara could protest. "Up until that point, she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Her beauty pales in comparison to yours, Sara," he swore, reaching out to run his hand along the curve of her hip. "How can something so beautiful be mine?"

"I will always be yours, Erik," Sara promised, pulling him close and putting up no resistance when he lowered her down onto their make-shift bed in the roots of the tree.

They spent hours there, loving each other and whispering sweet nothings before making love again until they were so spent neither one could move an inch. Sara remained curled against Erik's side, one leg tangled with his while she drew shapes in his chest. "Erik?" she asked after a while, and the masked man tipped his head to her with a quiet hum. "Why did you ask to leave the mask on last night? And again today, you never took it off…"

Erik looked back up towards the canopy, his brows furrowed. "Last night was new enough without the added worry being without my mask brings," he explained. "I considered removing it today, but the mirrors… I know they only show your reflection in certain places here, but I hate them even still."

"Why build a room of mirrors if you hate them?" Sara asked, curiously.

"I've been fascinated with them ever since I was a boy," Erik explained. "It was my mother's doing, really. She kept no mirrors in the house except one in her room, I suppose so she would only ever have to deal with one of me at a time. She had me wearing a mask from a very young age, but I grew quickly and they became very uncomfortable almost as soon as she had fashioned a new one. I refused to wear my mask one day, and she brought me to the mirror in her room to show me why I had to wear it. All I saw in the mirror were my mother and a monster."

Sara frowned as Erik continued. "She explained to me then what mirrors do, that they reflect only things that are real in front of them and that the monster in the mirror was me, but I refused to believe her. I broke the mirror when she went out and made a mobile from it to hang in my room. It caught the light and showed me nothing but beautiful things from then on, but I still don't care for mirrors."

After placing a kiss on his masked cheek, Sara rested her head back into the crook of his arm. "Your mother shouldn't have done that. It was unkind and spiteful."

"Both those words describe my mother quite well," Erik said, pulling her against his side. "Neither thing can be said about you. Write to me every day? Perhaps one of our letters will get through."

Sara nodded. "Write me, too, and visit often?"

"As often as I can," Erik promised, holding her close.

* * *

_My dearest Erik,_

_You should have heard me scream when I received your letter! Nadir thought I was having a fit and Reza was convinced I was dying. It didn't even appear to me to have been opened! It seems the Sultana has decided to take pity on us, or else she's found a new pair to torment._

_Life here has been quiet without you. The Sultana has purchased a tiger cub from Bengal who is the most charming little creature, but I'm certain he won't be for long. His keeper has told us he will be massive when he is grown, and a wild animal no matter how tame he may appear to us now. Already he eats several chickens every day and appears to be growing right before our eyes. Where she plans to keep him when he is grown, I haven't the slightest idea. _

_Reza appears to have gained a little of the weight he lost back again, although he still isn't eating as much as I would like. One step at a time, I suppose. He does have a cough the poor dear can't seem to shake, but as cruel as it sounds I am glad for it; at least when he coughs at night I know he is still breathing. He misses you almost as much as I do and has made me promise to say hello for him, so hello and much love from your future nephew. _

_One terrible thing did happen while you've been away – I went to our forest to re-read your letter and discovered a man inside, dead! I don't know how he learned how to get in, but it appears the poor fellow could not find his way back out; Nadir says he thinks it was dehydration that killed him. Oddly though, he was a criminal Nadir had caught only just a few days ago. Nadir didn't even know he had escaped! I've asked Nadir to check the room daily on his rounds, but perhaps we could fashion a lock on the outside door when you come home to keep curious passersby out?_

_I don't know what has gotten into me, but everywhere I look these days I see babies. Spring is here and many of my acquaintances are pregnant or having children! I cannot wait until we are married to start a family of our own. How do you think our children will be? I hope they are as clever as you are, but not so clever that their work keeps them away for as long as your work keeps you. I miss you terribly._

_Come home soon,_

_Sara_

Erik grinned as he read the letter, having had much the same reaction Sara did upon receiving it. He was just about to pick up a pen to respond when a voice called for him from outside. "Lord Magician, your presence is requested at once."

"Tell whoever it is that I am busy and that it can wait," Erik insisted, but the voice pressed on.

"Sir, it is the Sultan's private messenger. He carries an urgent letter for you that he insists requires immediate response."

With a grumble, Erik rose to his feet and moved to the opening of his tent, towering over both of the men in front of him. The smaller of the two bowed and held out an envelope with the Sultan's seal in wax upon the front, appearing nervous. Sliding a knife between the wax and parchment, Erik unfolded the note.

_Architect,_

_I have been made aware of a traitor in your midst. One of your men has been giving enemies of mine details of the palace and its construction. I require that you deal with the threat immediately; find the man responsible and dispose of him at once. There is no need to bring the Daroga into this if we can solve the matter ourselves._

Erik's heart sank – so the Sultan knew of Erik's history as an assassin. Worse, he was beginning to learn of the plot against him. Erik slipped inside his tend and quickly drafted a promise to catch the man responsible as well as a note for the Daroga, handing the official letter to the Sultan's messenger and the other to the second man outside the tent before going back inside in a far worse mood than he had been only minutes before.

* * *

The Daroga arrived on horseback the next morning, looking less than pleased with having to be so far from home. Erik spotted him coming from the site, climbing down from his workplace to greet the man with a firm handshake. "Thank you for coming, Daroga. I am in great need of your assistance."

Nadir shook the man's hand in turn, sensing already that there was more to the story than Erik was telling. "Of course. There are is an enormous amount of valuables here, theft is no small issue. Please tell me what has been going on?"

Waiting until they were inside his tent and unlikely to be eavesdropped on, Erik handed the Daroga the letter he had received only one day prior. "There has been no theft. I received this yesterday from the Sultan's messenger. He knows I've been giving his enemies information. Judging by his wording, I would not doubt he suspects you are among them."

With a quiet curse, Nadir sank in a chair and to read and re-read the letter, as if there might be new information hiding within. "What did you tell him?"

"It's obvious he does not know I am the informant, so I told him that I was appalled and would find out who the man was immediately and deal with the situation… I need your guidance, Nadir," Erik admitted. "I was up late last night fretting about it. The only way I can see to maintain our secret is to accuse an innocent man of treason."

Leaning forward on his elbows, Nadir pressed his hands together and placed his chin upon them thoughtfully. "This is a terrible position to be in, Erik. A terrible position."

Erik nodded his agreement and sat across from the man. "What do I do? I made a promise to you and to Sara there would be no more killing, but the Sultan commands it. If I say I cannot find the man responsible, my neck is on the line. And then there is the matter of his suspicions of you –"

"Let me worry about his suspicions of me," Nadir pressed. "One situation at a time."

There was a long and heavy silence in the tent before Nadir finally leaned back in his chair with a thick sigh. "Today begins our war, Erik. You are right, it is your neck on the line if you choose to keep your promise not to kill, and only does my sister need you but our cause needs you. You are too valuable a player to be lost so early. The first life lost in this war must be that of an innocent man, I can see no other alternative. If I ask too much of you, Erik, it is never too late to leave – leave our cause and leave Persia for brighter skies. The nights here are about to come long and dark."

Erik growled in frustration and slammed his palms against his desk before rising and pushing over his chair; he had known in his heart this would be the way of things, yet it pained him to hear it from such an honest and noble man. "It was too late to leave the day Sara first offered me her friendship. I will do what must be done, Daroga, but I beg of you to keep this from her. It is safer that she never know I've broken my promise."

Nadir stood and squeezed the man's shoulder. "You have my word, Brother."


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note**: Heads up, this is a heavy chapter. I'm not in love with it but it needed to be written.

* * *

With long and deliberate steps, Erik strode past the guards into the Sultan's antechamber. The one man who dared try stop him quickly found his neck in Erik's grip. The guard was nearly Erik's impressive height and twice his girth, but still he shook with fear when the Magician drew his face close and hissed. "Try and stop me again, and I will tear your throat out. Understood?"

The guard nodded as best he good, and Erik released the man who was already beginning to bruise where he had been grabbed. The Sultan glanced up from behind his table where he was consulting with a pair of men who might have been soldiers and witnessed the entire event. "What on earth is all this fuss about?"

"This has to stop," Erik spoke, his voice carrying easily in the room raising a paper with the Sultan's seal upon it. "There has been one murder every week for over a month now. I haven't been home to see my affianced in weeks so that I can do your dirty work while you keep your hands free of blood. I don't know if you knew this, Your Holiness, but a war cannot be fought one death at a time."

Clasping his hands behind his back, the Sultan dismissed his soldiers and Erik strode up the small set of steps to the table, standing across from the Sultan and placing the note down forcefully.

"Erik, do not think of them as murders, think of them as… strategic eliminations," the Sultan suggested.

Erik's hands curled into fists upon the table. "You're growing paranoid, Your Holiness. I will find whatever evidence you want me to find on these men whether they are guilty or not, but I draw the line here. What has the Daroga ever done besides protect you and your interests?"

"Ah, so this isn't really about the number of assassinations then is it? It's about one assassination in particular."

"It is the straw to break the camel's back, Your Holiness," Erik defended. "The man has a son who is very ill."

"Not for much longer," the Sultan countered, and Erik's change in posture gave away his surprise. "Didn't you hear? The boy hasn't woken up in two days now, he doesn't have much longer."

Erik's jaw tightened at the news. "I won't kill the Daroga, Your Holiness. If you need an assassin you need to hire one, I'm through with such dirty work."

Turning on his heel to dismiss himself, he stopped when the Sultan called after him. "You're right. I have been utilizing your talents without proper reimbursement. What do you desire most, Erik?"

Too curious to leave like he knew he should, Erik spoke. "To marry Sara Khan and to know that she is safe and well."

"How easily we men in love are pleased," the Sultan remarked, clasping his hands in front of him. "Do this for me, and it is done. Get rid of the Daroga and his sister will be your bride by the end of the week, and you will have my protection with a large financial sum besides."

Without another word, Erik stalked from the room and let the solid wood doors bang closed behind him. From the Sultan's chambers he went immediately to the Daroga's apartment.

Erik far from the first person Sara expected to see when she opened the door to a firm knock. "Erik!" She gasped, throwing herself in his arms and holding him tightly. It was clear she had been crying when she looked up at him with puffy, red eyes. "Did Nadir write you?"

"No, I came on another matter and heard Reza was not well," Erik explained, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head. "How is he?"

Tears welled in Sara's eyes and she shook her head. "No one can wake him up, not even the doctor. Nadir hasn't left his side even to eat. I don't know what to do…" she sobbed, wiping at her eyes.

With a kiss, Erik took her hand and stepped inside towards the boy's room. The door was open a crack, allowing the pair to slip inside without disturbing Nadir inside. He was leaned over Reza's bed, Qur'an in hand and praying under his breath. Sara leaned against Erik's side and watched her brother for a long time before venturing forward and placing her hand on his shoulder and speaking quietly. "Nadir, Erik is here. Come and have supper with us."

"I can't leave him," Nadir said, and Erik stepped forward.

"You two eat, I'll sit with him," he offered. When the Daroga made no move away from the bed he spoke again. "You're no use to anyone tired and starving, Nadir. I'll find you if anything changes."

Sara took her brother's arm when he stood, needing the comfort as much as she wanted to provide it. Taking Nadir's place in the chair beside Reza's bed, Erik leaned forward to rest his elbows on the edge of the bed and running his hands over his hair. His head hung low, he cursed God or whoever else might be listening.

The boy in the bed was nearly unrecognizable. He had lost a dramatic amount of weight and what little muscle mass he had. Erik's face may have looked like death, but every inch of Reza was reminiscent of a skeleton so pale and gaunt had he become.

When Erik reached out to feel the boy's forehead, he was cold as ice. If not for the shallow rise and fall of Reza's chest, Erik might have thought he was dead.

"Little Prince, can you hear me?" He tried, but received no response. With a frown, Erik waved a hand in front of his face to see if his eyes would move under their lids. He half hoped he would receive no response, knowing any movement meant the boy might be in pain. But it also meant he might wake.

A small moan escaped the boy's throat and his lids moved, but he was nowhere near waking. Erik's frown deepened; so Reza was not comatose. Having grown so weak from lack of food and the inability to exercise, his body had simply given up but his mind was well.

Erik could not imagine a more horrible existence.

"Little Prince, if you can hear me… I need your help. I need you to tell me if you are ready to go. I can help you find peace if you are, but I cannot unless I know it is what you want. Please… Reza, please tell me what to do."

There was no response. For minutes that felt like hours Erik sat at the boy's side, watching his breathing and for any sign he might have been heard. The door behind him creaked on its hinges and Erik turned his head to see Nadir in the doorway. He was about to stand and allow the man to regain his seat when something brushed against his hand.

Looking down again at the bed, Reza's hand had moved just so, touching Erik's hand as if to hold it. How long the boy had been mustering up this effort Erik could not say, but immediately he knew its meaning.

Standing, Erik stopped the Daroga from returning to his seat. "I'd like to talk to you, Nadir. Outside if it's alright."

Glancing between Reza and Erik, Nadir nodded and stepped back out of the room followed by Erik who closed the door behind him.

It took the masked man a moment to compose his thoughts before speaking. "It's time to let him go, Nadir."

Nadir stared at the man in front of him, not quite believing what he heard. "Excuse me?"

"It's time to let Reza go. He's not going to recover from this."

Nadir's voice was as dangerous as Erik had ever heard of it. "You want me to _kill_ my _son_?" The man demanded, clenching his fists tight.

"If you feel you could, I can give you a way that will be quick and painless. If not, I will do it."

Enraged, Nadir grasped Erik by his shirt and pushed him back, sending the masked man stumbling back into the wall with a loud thud. "You are the devil, Erik of Azerbaijan! Murder as many of your men as you please, but don't you dare take the life of my son!" the Daroga barked ferociously, sending Sara running from the kitchen.

"What's going on?" She asked, standing back knowing full well if there was going to be a fight there was not much she could do to stop them.

Erik pushed Nadir back by his shoulders, forcing himself to calm; if any other man in any other situation had shoved him so violently, Erik would have struck back with deadly force. "He's suffering!" Erik exclaimed. "If your horse broke its leg, you would shoot it wouldn't you?"

"Reza is not a horse, he's a boy!"

"_Yes_," Erik stressed, "My point exactly! You would stop the suffering of a horse; why let your son suffer more than you would allow an animal? Be better to him, Nadir. Let him go peacefully, with a soft voice and a warm hand to hold."

With a broken sob, Nadir fought the idea with every fiber of his being but knew the man was right. Sara moved quickly to wrap her arms around him, crying silently herself. Erik remained by the wall, while Nadir grappled with the idea. After a long while, he moved to a table where the Daroga kept his Qur'an for easy access and approached the man again to press the book into his hands along with a thin, clear vial. "I would take it myself if death were ever the lesser of two evils," he explained, hoping to put the man's mind at ease. "It is quick and painless."

Nadir held the vial in his open palm, staring at the clear fluid within and shaking his head. "I can't do it, Erik. I can't kill my own child, even if… even if it is the right thing to do," he finally admitted, the words making him ill.

With a small nod of understanding, Erik took the vial back and after a moment of consideration took the book also. He was about to turn back into the boy's room when Sara spoke. "Wait! Can I say goodbye?"

Stepping aside, Erik gestured her in and Nadir followed, but the masked man remained outside the room. The siblings remained in Reza's room for ages, emerging again in tears almost a full hour after they had entered.

Clasping Nadir's shoulder as he passed, Erik slipped into the room and locked the door behind him. Nadir and Sara sat together not far from the door until well after midnight when Sara had fallen into a fitful sleep on the divan. Although he had not slept for days, Nadir could afford no such luxury. Regret washed over him, drowning him in one heavy wave. If he had been less busy and spent more time with Reza, would the boy still be alive? If he had tutored his son himself, if he had let his sister live for herself instead of for a child who was not even hers, if Sanas had not died, if Erik had never come to stay with them – so many 'what if's, it was impossible not to sink under the weight of them.

The door opened and Erik stepped out, leaving the door open behind him. When Nadir glanced up at him all the man could manage was a nod, but that small motion spoke all the Daroga needed to know. He rose and walked past the masked man into Reza's room to mourn the loss of his first and only child. In the sitting room Erik sank into one of the larger chairs, drained.

Sara lay across from him on the divan, a worried frown on her face even in sleep. For a moment he wondered whether to wake her, but he decided against it – Reza had been dead for hours already, she could wait a few hours more to mourn if it meant finally sleeping. Watching her sleep, resting on her back with her hand sitting low on her belly, Erik could not help but recall the Sultan's promise to him.

She could be his, he thought, well and truly his. Her safety would be guaranteed although she was the sister of a traitor and at the whim of the wicked Sultana and her twisted games, but at an impossible cost. Sara stirred just then, opening her eyes and sitting up when she saw Erik across from her. "Is he..?"

Erik's nod was barely perceptible. "Yes. Some time ago. Nadir's in there now."

Wiping at her eyes, Sara glanced at the door and stood. When Erik did not follow suit, she turned back to him with a small frown. "Would you come in with me? I don't want to be alone."

Erik gathered her meaning; although Nadir would be in the room, he would be far too distraught to be of any comfort. Although he desperately wanted to fall into bed and sleep away the stress and anxiety of the past day, Erik stood and allowed Sara to take his arm and went with her into the room of the boy whose life he had taken.

"You're not angry with me?" He asked in a whisper when they had entered the room, standing far enough from Nadir to give him space and privacy but close enough to let their presence be known.

Sara stood in front of Erik, pulling his arms around her and leaning into his chest before freeing one hand to wipe tears from her eyes. "Why would I be angry?"

"I broke my promise to you. I said I wouldn't kill again."

Squeezing his arms tight, she spoke. "As hard as this is I'm glad he isn't hurting anymore. He's been ill for so long… it's good to know he's in a better place. I'm not angry, just… sad. He was so young, with so much life ahead of him."

"And I took it from him," Erik pointed out.

Sara took one of his hands and laced his fingers with hers. "The illness took it from him before we even knew you. We all knew it was a death sentence from the day the last doctor could not tell us what was wrong or how to fix it," she promised. "What you did was kind, to Reza and to Nadir although it may not feel that way now."

Erik did not protest, although he wondered whether she would feel the same about the lives he had taken in the past weeks to protect her brother and the upcoming insurgence. Speaking of – "Nadir, there is something you need to do as soon as the sun rises."

"I am in mourning, Erik, I will do nothing until I am damn well ready," the man hissed from his place at Reza's bedside.

"I would not suggest it if it were not a matter of life and death," Erik promised. "You must to go to the Sultan tomorrow and tell him of Reza's passing. Ask for his advice as a father on how to mourn your son, ask him for the time from your duties to grieve but be as patriotic as you can while you do."

Both Nadir and Sara looked to him curiously. Nadir was the one who managed to speak first. "Why did you come here yesterday, Erik?" He asked, already suspecting the answer.

"The Sultan wants you dead. 'Eliminated', as he so tactfully put it," Erik admitted. "I came immediately to tell him he was mad and that you were loyal. Go to him and seek his advice, flatter him and he may change his mind about you," the masked man pressed, and Nadir looked back to his son with a tight jaw and a nearly imperceptible nod.

Sara was not satisfied. "But why would the Sultan tell you such a thing?"

Erik considered his words carefully, deciding on a half-truth rather than the whole. "He found out about what happened the night you were married, and that I was responsible. He's asked me to apply that particular skill set to Nadir in order to avoid the coming struggles."

"What did he offer you in exchange?" The Daroga asked suddenly, and Erik hung his head some while debating how to answer.

"Not enough," he said finally, and Sara leaned back into him before pulling his arms more securely around her.

Suddenly quite aware of the subtle changes in her body since Erik had left, she prayed Erik had been wrong when he said bad things happen in threes and decided not to tell Erik her secret until she was certain there was a secret to be told.


	17. Chapter 17

Erik was absent the morning Reza was buried beside his mother. His absence was noticed by Sara and her brother, even if none of the others in attendance seemed to mind. And how many attended! Nadir was expecting a few cousins to make the journey and that might be all, but far from it – men the siblings had not even known arrived to pay their respects to the boy.

Word of the rebellion was spreading, and the people were mourning their prince.

After months of moving in secret, of fearing there would never be enough able-bodies men willing to rise up against the Sultan and his soldiers and risk their lives for the promise of a better future, the response was overwhelming. The pieces were falling into place more quickly than Nadir could have ever hoped.

Sara kept to herself for the bulk of the ceremonies, watching from afar while men approached her brother and offered their condolences. Most of these men barely knew Reza if they had even met him at all – where was Erik? Had he gone back south without saying anything?

By sundown most of the mourners had left, and Nadir approached Sara to walk her home.

"Did he say anything about not being able to come?" The Daroga asked as if reading her mind.

Sara shook her head gently, and Nadir squeezed around her shoulders. "I wish he had been able to come, for Reza's sake. It also would have been good for him to see how many people turned up."

"It was surprising, wasn't it?" Sara admitted.

"I'm at an impasse now, though," the Daroga frowned slightly. "Several, actually."

Sara tipped her head and Nadir continued. "I have no heir, and no wife to even offer hope of a new one. Why would anyone fight for a childless widower to take the throne when it would be temporary at best? That being said, you'd better be carrying a boy," he remarked, glancing down at his sister who nearly choked in surprise.

"How did you-" she began before realizing she was speaking far too loud. "How did you know?"

"I've lived with a pregnant woman before, I remember the signs," Nadir promised. "You carried a worried little look on your face you got when you were supposed to bleed. I take it you never got your monthly?"

Sara shook her head gently. "No, still. I was due again yesterday too… but it could be stress," Sara pointed out. "I haven't been eating well since Reza's condition took a turn for the worse, and –"

"You're not as excited as I thought you might be," Nadir interrupted. "You've wanted a baby since you were a baby yourself."

"Not like this, Nadir," Sara sighed. "Not before I'm married! Nobody warns you that sex makes you feel so close to someone. We had no intention of _trying_ to make a baby yet, we just missed each other…"

"I don't need to hear this," Nadir teased, nudging her gently while she laughed quietly and flushed.

"Sorry. I just… I thought it would happen at the right time. I don't want us to be married before he's ready just because I'm going to have a baby. I don't want to worry that the baby is the only reason we married," she admitted.

Nadir shook his head and managed a small smile in spite of his grief for his son. "That man has wanted to marry you since before he even knew you," Nadir said, continuing when Sara glanced at him curiously. "I was worried about it the day you met him and fainted during his trick. He needs to be loved, and you need to love. It's only natural that you would find one another. Have you told him you're expecting?"

"No. I'm not even certain myself, not yet. And besides, when would I have told him? Look at all that's been happening," Sara pointed out.

"You'd better tell him soon. If the Sultana finds out you're pregnant out of wedlock she'll put you through hell if not on the street," Nadir advised, and Sara gave a small nod.

"I will. But Nadir, what are we supposed to do? We need their permission to marry. We could elope but the marriage would never be valid in the eyes of the court unless the Sultana gives her blessing for me to marry him."

"You worry prematurely, Sara. My marriage was never questioned, I doubt yours will be either. You can't know what will happen unless you try."

Hanging her head thoughtfully, Sara continued to walk beside her brother and took his arm. "You're being surprisingly good about this. I didn't think you approved of Erik."

"He's… a man of extremes. Erik is capable of great wickedness, but he is also capable of great rectitude. Besides, he loves you dearly. It's hard to deny a love that strong."

They stopped at a hallway intersection, and Nadir nodded down the hall to his left away from their home. "Go and see him. I'll be alright."

"Are you sure?" Sara frowned.

"Yes. I have a lot to think about after today and won't be much company anyway."

* * *

Erik opened the door only a crack before stepping aside to let Sara in and closing the door behind her. "Good evening."

"Good evening," Sara bid in turn, rising up to kiss him welcome. "I missed you today. Why didn't you come?"

"I only just got in. The Sultana has had me at her beck and call all day. With the situation with your brother as precarious as it is, I didn't dare upset her by refusing," Erik explained, sounding utterly exhausted.

"I'm sorry… she is a terrible woman. What did she have you doing?"

Erik moved to lay down on his bed, not bothering to pull down the blankets as he stared at the ceiling. "She found out about our forest. She wants one of her own, so I began building it. Strange though, she wants it in the center of an otherwise empty room, and she wants to be able to see what is going on inside."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Sara laced their fingers with a small frown. "That is strange, but she has done stranger things. Perhaps she wishes it for her tiger?"

"I have a feeling she wants something more sinister from it," Erik confided. "She asked what might happen to a person who could not find his way out, almost as though she already knew the answer. I'm no longer sure the man you found wound up in there by accident."

The young woman shuddered and curled up into bed beside Erik to take in his warmth. "I hate that you're being used as a pawn in all this… By Nadir too," she added.

"I am not your brother's pawn; I help him willingly and gladly. Do you know if he's done what I suggested?"

"He hasn't left the apartment at all until today. I'm sure he will though… He misses Reza terribly."

Erik leaned to kiss the top of her head. "So do I."

"You were so good with him," Sara ventured. "If I didn't know better there were times I might have thought he was your son."

The masked man chuckled quietly. "He was a fascinating child, wasn't he? He made me promise never to tell you or Nadir, but he used to come into my room and sit with me for hours after he was put to bed. He had a very curious mind, I couldn't teach him things quickly enough."

Sara smiled at the thought. "I suspected it. He admired you so, I couldn't scold him for it. But he wasn't very subtle – he would come to me showing me new tricks every few days even though I knew he hadn't been to see you during the day."

The young woman trailed off a moment before continuing. "What do you think our children would be like?"

"I couldn't say. Like you, I would hope. Any child that takes after me would be a downright hazard."

Sara laughed. "I hope they're like you! Clever, kind, gifted…"

"Don't forget headstrong and short-tempered," Erik corrected, amused. "I was a monster when I was a boy."

"I don't believe it!"

"It's true," Erik said, "I wouldn't say it justifies how terrible my mother was to me, but I was no angel. It was difficult being so advanced with no opportunities to progress; I got bored very quickly, and you do not want to be around me when I'm bored."

"I doubt I'll ever get to see you bored," Sara teased. "There are so many wonderful things we could do together to pass the time."

With a smile, Erik leaned to kiss her tenderly, deepening the kiss when to his surprise Sara pulled away and became very nervous all of a sudden. "What's wrong?"

"Erik… Erik I'm pregnant."

The masked man's eyes grew wide and he sat up in bed. "You're _pregnant?_"

Sitting up and curling her legs under her, Sara nodded with her hands clasped anxiously. "I keep trying to tell myself that maybe I'm not, that there's something else that might be going on… but every day I'm more and more sure."

"How long have you known?" Erik demanded, and Sara lowered her gaze.

"Not long at all. I missed my monthly four weeks ago, but I've missed it before I'd even met you. It's late again… and there have been other things. I've been terribly nauseas the past few mornings, and my breasts are tender. I feel like there's an added pressure in that part of my belly… I was going to tell you the next time you came home, but then Reza got sick and you showed up so suddenly and everything was terrible with the Sultan and with Reza..." she justified quickly, worried he might be angry she had waited so long to say anything.

When Erik stood and began to pace around the room, the woman's heart sank. "You're upset."

Realizing how his reaction must have seemed, Erik quickly moved to take up her hands. "Not with you, Sara, never with you. And if this had happened at any other time…" he trailed off, moving away again to run his hands over his hair. "There's something I didn't tell you about my meeting with the Sultan."

Sara tipped her head, her hands protectively over the place in her belly where their child grew and Erik continued. "He offered me whatever I wanted most in the world if I would kill Nadir. I told him what I wanted most was to be your husband, and that our safety would be promised for as long as we live. He said to consider it done."

The woman paled. "What did you say?"

"I said nothing, of course. Sara I have no plans to kill your brother now or in the future, no matter what the Sultan offers me… but I fear now that we may never be permitted to marry while we remain in Persia unless I do."

"We could elope," Sara suggested. "Marry in Azerbaijan like Nadir did."

"That still does not insure the second half of my deal with the Sultan. Married or not, it will only ever be valid if the Sultan permits it. Should he decide to ignore our marriage, what then? Not to mention all the fun the Sultana will have from this if she decides to meddle!"

Sara frowned deeply, knowing he was right. "I said the same thing to Nadir today… he said we cannot know what will happen unless we try. And Erik… I'm afraid of what's going to happen if we aren't married when they find out I am pregnant. Of the Sultana especially; I would not put it past her to harm a child."

"Nor would I," Erik admitted before taking a deep breath. "We're damned if we do and damned if we don't, at this point. It is a matter of choosing the lesser of two evils..." suddenly Erik's posture changed, and he turned to face her again. "Unless there is a third option. We are confident your brother is going to win this fight, aren't we?"

"Yes, but Erik –"

The man held up his hand. "We can have your brother marry us, and begin to live the revolution. The entire thing cannot be played out by espionage the way it has been played so far," Erik explained. "Sides will need to be taken openly. We can take our side now and run away together; elope but never return."

Sara considered this carefully. "But what about Nadir?"

"We will stay close enough to assist him, someplace he can come live with us when he can no longer stay either."

"Where is there possibly a place the Sultan would not be able to find us inside the borders of Persia?" The woman protested.

"Underground," Erik announced. "In passages and tunnels… The French have been doing it for centuries. There are miles and miles of catacombs under the streets of Paris that clever-enough people have been using to get around the city undetected. There is no reason we couldn't do the same. Give me two weeks and I can build us a place to live right under the Sultan's nose, in his very own palace even."

Sara's eyes widened. "_That_ close?"

"It won't be his palace forever, or even for long," Erik opposed. "I've been giving Nadir the blueprints of the palace since before construction began – he plans to take it and use it as a center of operations for his cause. We will simply be the first residents."

After considering this for a long while, Sara took a small breath and nodded. "If you think it is the safest thing we can do… then we will do it."

"Two weeks, Sara, and you will be my bride. By next year life will be beautiful – your brother will be Sultan, our child will be in this world and we can live out our lives in peace," Erik swore, taking her hands again to kiss her assuringly.


	18. Chapter 18

"I've never seen anything more beautiful," Sara breathed, glancing around the sparsely decorated room. The walk down through the tunnels and passages had been long and terribly confusing, but with Erik as her guide they found the house underneath the palace with ease. From the outside it appeared as little more than a dead-end in an underground labyrinth, but inside the house was as ordinary as anything above ground.

More than ordinary, the house was perfect. The furniture was beautiful and sturdy, masterfully crafted and artfully arranged. Besides the furnishings and a handful of ornate rugs on the floor, there was very little in the main room and still it was the most beautiful home Sara had seen.

"I wanted to leave the decorating up to you. I've found a merchant who's willing to stay open late when he's in the area, and I've given him more than enough money to afford anything we may need. I'll introduce you to him the next time he comes," Erik said, watching his lover as she walked around the room.

The house had taken nearly twice as long to complete as Erik initially thought and in all honesty it was still not yet finished to his satisfaction, but they were out of time; at three months pregnant, Sara's condition was becoming impossible to hide. Every time Erik saw her she seemed to have filled out slightly, with a healthy glow in her cheeks and a secretive look in her eyes. The pregnancy was treating her well, in spite of the occasional morning sickness and odd cravings.

"You're too good to me, Erik," she breathed, turning back to him with a smile. "How many rooms are there?"

"Well, there's our bedroom, the baby's room, a room for your brother if he comes to stay, a music room, the kitchen…"

"You built a room for the baby already?" Sara asked with a grin, her hand on the slight bulge in her belly. "Can I see it?"

"It isn't much yet," Erik warned, offering his hand to guide her to the nursery. A crib and rocking chair hardly filled the spacious room, but were the only things within. "It's so big!"

"I figured the baby would have to grow into it," Erik reasoned. "And besides, what if we have more children? The more space the better."

With a broad smile, Sara turned and wrapped her arms around Erik's neck to kiss him passionately. "I love you, Erik. I love this," she said, glancing behind her into the room again. "You're going to be such a good father, and an even better husband."

Erik returned the kiss and slipped his hands into her hair. "Do you really like it? It isn't too late to make changes, and it isn't complete just yet -"

Sara interrupted the masked man with another, deeper kiss. "I love it, Erik. And I love you," she promised, kissing him yet again before lacing their fingers and backing toward the door. "Why don't you show me the bedroom..?"

Clothes were abandoned by the time the pair fell into bed. Sara gasped into his mouth when Erik kissed her, delighting in his every touch. She never felt more beautiful than when making love with Erik, and she still found herself amazed that nearly every time they were together was better than the last. She knew so many women who merely tolerated their husbands in bed; Sara found herself pining for him on the nights he was away, imagining all the ways he would touch and caress her when they were together again.

Now she would never have to long for him to no avail again. This was _their_ home. No more sneaking around, returning to their respective beds as early as possible to avoid suspicion… this was _their_ bed. In the morning, she would wake up at Erik's side and make love to him again and whenever they wanted to be together.

Curling into his side, Sara smiled with content against her lover. She giggled while he tried to guess the patterns she was absently tracing into his chest, her heart full. They fell quiet before long, and Sara was about to settle into a comfortable rest when Erik spoke. "I wrote my mother last week."

Curiously, Sara rested her head on his chest to glance up at him. "Oh?"

"I actually wrote her a month ago, but I couldn't bring myself to mail it until last week. I don't know that she'll get it," he added, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"What did you say to her?"

"I told her where I'm living, and about you. I also mentioned she was going to be a grandmother, but I left out that we're not married just yet. She wouldn't understand, not that she needs to," Erik explained.

Sara smiled and nodded her understanding. "I wouldn't have told Nadir until after we're married for the same reason, but he's been surprisingly wonderful about it since he guessed. I think he's excited to have a child around again. But why write her now? You've had so many years with so many things you could have told her."

"Life has never been as good to me as it has been now," Erik explained. "And it certainly hasn't given me all the things my mother thought I would never have. I have a beautiful home, a beautiful woman, plenty of money, food, and other things I've always had to struggle for until now. I never imagined I would have even a normal life, let alone a life as good as this. I doubt she'll get it," he added, finally looking back to her. "She's probably moved to Paris or someplace equally glamorous by now. She hated living in such a small village."

"You never know," Sara suggested. "Perhaps someone will forward it on to her, if she has moved. Maybe you'll even hear back. I'm proud of you, Erik. I know it couldn't have been an easy letter to write."

"Writing it was simple, sending it was a struggle," Erik said, and Sara laughed before kissing him.

"Regardless, I'm proud of you. I hope you do hear back from her."

Erik hummed to himself, and Sara moved to straddle him with a smile lingering between shy and a smirk before kissing him again. "Why so glum?"

"You know – I suddenly can't remember," Erik said, kissing her back and turning Sara on to her back while she laughed.

* * *

When Sara woke, the room was dark. For the first time she realized it was impossible to tell the time of day without having to look at a clock – there were no natural light in the building at all. It made sense, since the house was underground, but the realization still struck Sara as strange. Erik had designed the house perfectly, with window dressings although there was not a single window making it feel no different than a house above ground might.

Stretching out languidly, Sara realized she was alone in bed the same time she realized why she had woken – music drifted through the house, soft and beautiful. With a private smile she listened to her affianced play from the bed, feeling as though she were eavesdropping on a private thought.

The melody was simple and romantic, filling her heart to the brim with love and adoration for the man who played it. There was so much about this man that she didn't know, she realized, but rather than making her nervous the thought excited her. Sara knew she could and would spend the rest of her life with Erik and still never know everything about him that there was to know.

Tracing her fingers over her swelling belly, Sara wondered again at the life they had created. She wondered if Erik knew how important the life inside of her really was now that Reza was gone; although she wouldn't keep her name, the child would be the next in an ancient line of royals. If the child was a boy, he would surely be chosen to ascend to the throne when Nadir passed. Although he would be half European, Sara was certain the child would be accepted by her people as one of their own. He would be benevolent and wise like no other ruler before him.

Sara laughed at herself then – daydreaming about her child's reign when before the baby was even born. Sitting up, Sara discovered Erik had brought in her things since she had fallen asleep. Rather than dress from her own, open wardrobe she ventured to Erik's to pull out a robe, immediately struck by the smell of him on the fabric. Pulling it around her shoulders, Sara ventured out of the room toward the source of the sound.

She found Erik in a room that could not have been anything but the music room he had mentioned when they first arrived. It was the only completed room Sara had seen so far in the house, with a large upright piano against the back wall. A cello, flute, violin and harp graced the room as well, along with glass cabinets filled with sheet music and delicate porcelain figurines in baroque style.

Erik was seated at the piano, engrossed in the music he played without so much as a single note in front of him. Sara stood and listened for nearly half an hour before Erik noticed her and stopped, turning to face her. "I hope I didn't wake you," he frowned. "Have you been up long?"

"It's alright, I was enjoying hearing you play. I knew you were talented, but I didn't realize just _how_ talented," she smiled, stepping forward to take his hand when he reached out for her. "Can you play all of these?"

Erik nodded, glancing over to the cello on its stand. "The piano is my preferred instrument, though. There are far more melodies written for a single piano than for a single cello or flute," he explained. "And even melodies not written exclusively for piano sound lovely on one."

"What was it you were just playing?"

"It was an original piece, actually," Erik admitted. "I was inspired and thought I'd play for a while before you woke up."

Sara tipped her head. "What inspired you so late? Or early - I really have no idea what time it is," she realized.

"It's nearly eight in the morning," Erik said with only a brief glance at a small clock in one of the glass cabinets. "But you did, actually."

With a touched smile Sara leaned forward and kissed Erik deeply, allowing him to wrap his arms around her as she did. "I have a surprise for you," she confided.

"Oh?"

"Before you brought me here I asked Nadir to meet us here tomorrow; he agreed to marry us. I hope you don't mind; he suggested we invite some of the people who are most loyal to the cause to serve as witnesses. I thought it was a great idea so I said yes."

As soon as Erik's lips pursed, Sara leaned forward to kiss him tenderly. "I'm sorry… It's just that this is such a happy occasion, and it really should be celebrated properly don't you think? What's the point of getting married at all if the whole world doesn't know that I am yours and yours alone?"

"Do you even know these people, Sara?" Erik demanded, standing in frustration. "What if they're not who they say they are? The purpose of moving here was to start our lives together in secret until things calm down."

"Erik, they are Nadir's most loyal men and their wives. They'll be living here themselves before too long, and besides - they want to meet you. All you are is a name and a ghost in a mask that passes them in the hall from time to time. They know how important you've become to the cause, working inside the Sultan's confidences like you've been. They know we were not married sooner because of our fear of retaliation and want to support us in our success and thank you for what you're doing for them. What is so wrong with that?"

"Do they know I got you pregnant out of wedlock? Your religion doesn't precisely approve of how we went about things, love or not."

"No, and they don't have to yet. We wouldn't be the first couple to get pregnant on our wedding night."

"We would certainly be the first couple to have a full-term baby at six months," Erik countered, moving out of the music room with frustration written into his every movement.

Sara ran a hand over her belly with a small frown. "You're worrying for no reason. They want to celebrate with us, that's all. Not everyone is working against you, Erik. Some people in life _do_ want to see you succeed."

Erik gave no response, moving into the kitchen to rummage through the pantry although he was far from hungry. Following him, Sara stood in the open doorway for a moment before wrapping her arms around him from behind. "Do you trust me, Erik?"

The man turned and sighed, holding her in turn and resting his chin atop her read. "It's not you I don't trust," he explained.

"Then trust me when I say everything is going to be alright. Wonderful, even. I won't leave your side the entire night, I promise you. All of it will be up above so no one finds out about our house, and if at any point you think it's necessary to leave we can always come back down here where no one will bother us."

"Alright," Erik relented, seeing no way around it although still not comfortable with the idea. At least it would take place in his arena; Erik knew the grounds above and below the palace better than anyone in Persia and should anyone turn out to be less trustworthy than Sara thought it would be easy enough to misplace them before any real harm was done.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note:** Guess who's on winter break now? This girl! Expect plenty of regular updates through the new year :)

* * *

Although it was more conservative than most everything Sara owned for wearing around the harem, Erik found her wedding gown to be stunning. It had been her mothers, and although it was white and Sara was far from a virgin with a child growing in her womb it suited her perfectly. Her thick, dark waves were covered with fabric and lace as pure as that on her dress, but the headdress itself was adorned with strings of pearls that draped gracefully below her chin and grazing the front of her shoulders.

The jade of Sara's eyes stood out prominently from yards away, every man and woman in attendance murmuring about how beautiful they were and what a lovely bride she made. Several men bemoaned that they had once asked Nadir for his sister's hand in marriage themselves but had been turned down, making the Magician a lucky man indeed.

Both Erik and Sara had been through the steps of a wedding ceremony before, but their excitement over this ceremony was undeniable. It was a rare occasion to see two people so in love taking the vows of matrimony, and many a guest marked the moment as one to retell when the Sultan's reign was through. His wicked wife thrived off of misery and pain, and certainly would not have approved of such a happy union between one of her girls and her own Magician.

The ceremony and reception were held inside the palace itself, although construction was not near finished. The first few floors were nearly complete but for walls separating rooms on the higher floors allowing for ample space for celebration. Several of Erik's better workers were invited to join them for the reception partially to boost their morale and partially to buy their silence should they be asked by other workers about what might be going on so late in the palace.

Sara's promise not to leave Erik's side was broken early in the reception when the wives of Nadir's men whisked her away to admire her dress and the henna on her hands and feet. She frowned over her shoulder at him while they led her off, mouthing a silent apology as Nadir approached with a handful of men.

"Welcome to the family, Brother," Nadir greeted, shaking Erik's hand firmly even as the man watched the swarm of women gather around his bride.

"I haven't even spoken to my bride yet but I'm already being greeted by my brother?" Erik asked, and the Daroga laughed.

"You'll have your whole life to see her," Nadir said with a smile. "Come and sit with us. The women will bring Sara back before long."

With another glance over at Sara, Erik nodded his agreement and walked with them to one of the many tables Nadir had brought up for the guests to sit and enjoy their meals.

One of the men who had been glancing about the room all evening leaned forward. "I have to tell you, I am astonished; I know this place is riddled with passages but I can't tell a single one! How many are there on this floor?"

"There are five entrances, but they all flow into two separate passages. One exits north, the other west," the masked man explained, drinking deeply."

"I don't believe it," another man announced, clearly astonished. "_Five_?"

Somewhat amused and certainly proud of his work, Erik leaned back in his chair a moment before gesturing around him. "Three in the walls, there, there, and there, and two in the floors going below. When all is said and done almost every room will have access to a passageway, although navigating them will be difficult without a map."

"Genius, simply genius," the men all agreed. "And without the Sultan knowing?"

Nadir spoke up then. "Not entirely. He suspects someone is feeding me information, although he does not suspect it is Erik."

The Magician nodded his agreement after a long drag at his wine. "He's been ordering hits since nearly the first day, including one on the Daroga," he explained. "I've been obliging him to keep up my alibi and stay in his favor as long as possible."

Quickly, the Daroga continued so as not to tarnish Erik's reputation. "It was a difficult decision to make, but it needed to be done. It is his ability to make such difficult decisions at great personal risk that make him invaluable to us."

"Here is what I don't understand – why haven't you simply assassinated the Sultan by now, if you are so gifted with such things? Why let innocent men continue to die?" One man asked.

"It has crossed my mind," Erik admitted. "Particularly when the Sultan commanded that I kill the Daroga here. But I have been in love with Sara for a long time, and very concerned for her safety if I attempted such a thing. The time isn't right, even now; there are too many men loyal to him still. They will consider him a martyr if we kill him too soon."

The men nodded their understanding soberly. "Actually Erik, that is what I was hoping to speak with you all about. Gentlemen, how do you feel about appointing my new brother as a general in our army?"

There was a clamor of hearty agreement before the Magician could even respond. "I don't want any greater part in your war than I've already taken," he said simply. "I have a wife to care for and protect."

"Precisely why I think you will join us," Nadir said, confident. "You are a brilliant mind, and a brilliant assassin. Did you know there has been no word at all of foul play in the missing men up north? Everyone thinks they either ran away or suffered an accident in the workplace. The more involved you are the fewer lives will be lost in the long run, of that I am quite certain."

"I will tell you the same thing I told the Sultan – a war is not won with assassination and espionage, it is won by soldiers and battle," the masked man reasoned. "I am no soldier."

"We have soldiers," the Daroga countered, gesturing around him. "What we do not have is a man of the world, a man of strategy. You may not be able to win us the war, Erik, but you can certainly limit the damage done. What is more valuable than that?"

Falling into a pensive silence, Erik rubbed the back of his neck. With a look to Sara, he frowned – she was three months pregnant and newlywed. Could he afford to give up his time and energy to a war that was not his own? And what if the worst happened and Sara was left a widow?

Then again, Sara becoming a young widow was not the worst that could happen. Far from it – Nadir had a fair point, after all. Assassination was not a way to kill many men all at once, but it was a perfect way to instill fear and distrust in the enemy and eliminate key players in the battle overall. If he refrained from assisting the Daroga, it was true that more lives than necessary may be lost. One of those lives might well be Sara's.

The casualties of war were not limited to soldiers. To the victor go the spoils, and if the Sultan was victorious Erik feared to think what would happen to his new bride. Could he live with himself if anything happened to Sara as a result of war? Images filled his mind of Sara, beautiful Sara naked and complacent to a man other than him, gifted to some war hero as his bride. More frightening still, the thought of her beautiful jade eyes dull and lifeless, their child crying alone at her side…

"I'll do it. Give me a list of the men you want taken care of and I will see that it happens."

"Are you gentlemen enjoying yourselves?"

Sara's voice from beside Erik came as a surprise, though he did not show it. Nadir was first to speak. "Enormously! Your husband has been a wonderful host, Sister."

The young bride smiled brightly. "I'm glad to hear it. Would you mind too terribly if I stole him for a while? I haven't said a word to him since we signed our papers."

Erik stood and dismissed himself from the group, taking her hand and stepping away from the men toward the center of the room. With a broad smile, Sara turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You seemed to be having a decent time without me, Husband."

"I wouldn't call it 'decent', but it wasn't terrible. What did those hens want with you?"

"Just ordinary gossip. They were admiring my dress; I was so nervous! I thought they might have noticed my belly," she admitted.

"It is a beautiful dress, I doubt if they noticed anything but how wonderful you look in it," Erik promised.

Sara smiled warmly. "Do you think so? I had to let it out a bit…"

With a gentle kiss, Erik soothed her worries. "You look stunning. I couldn't keep my eyes off you. Half the men here can't either," he teased, and Sara laughed.

"What was my brother boring you with? Talk of war no doubt?"

"Naturally. But let's not be so dull, My Bride," Erik offered. "As beautiful as you look in that dress I would love to see you out of it."

Sara's cheeks turned a deep shade of red then and she gave a small nod before glancing over the crowd to make sure they weren't being watched too closely and moving off into the shadows with him.

* * *

Falling back into the bed with a throaty moan, Sara tangled her fingers in her husband's hair and kissed him fiercely. Since her pregnancy she had become aroused terribly easily; half way down the passageways and tunnels to the house his occasional kisses and the feel of his hand on her hip drove her to the brink of madness. The thought of the night ahead of them alone was enough to quicken her pace. Were Erik any other man, she might have been embarrassed and ashamed by her desires; it was very unbecoming, she knew. But with Erik, nothing mattered at all except that they were together now and forever. Besides, he seemed to be enjoying her increased arousal just as much as she was.

When her fingers caught on the binding of Erik's mask, he reached to remove her hands from his hair and instead laced their fingers and brought the offending hand down to the bed. It was not an angry gesture, more instinctive than anything; Erik had not even seemed to notice as he moved atop her. Sara noticed, however, and though it was not so alarming as to break the moment it stayed in her mind as inescapable as the hum of a cicada in summer.

Collapsing atop his new bride, Erik was careful not to place too much of his weight on her; she claimed not to mind it and although he was not a heavy man he feared crushing her and the life growing inside her. Her chest heaved as waves of pleasure washed over her, and Erik traced his lips along the soft curve of her neck filled with the masculine pride her reaction always brought him. It was not until his kisses moved to her mouth that he noticed the furrow in her brow and the distracted look on her face.

"What's wrong, my beautiful bride?" He asked, reaching to trace his fingers over the small bulge in her womb with worry.

Sara shook her head, undecided on whether to say anything about her concerns until the very moment the words came pouring out. "Am I ever going to get to be with you without that mask on your face?"

Surprised, Erik moved to his side and studied her carefully. "Why do you ask?"

"My fingers caught on the strap while we were together just now… but instead of letting the mask fall away you moved my hand," she explained, eyes fixated on the ceiling.

Erik said nothing while she continued. "I know you love me, but… don't you think there is something wrong with that? You were so guarded even in such an intimate moment. Our first time together as man and wife and still, somewhere in your mind – however deep – you were worried about your face."

"Sara that worry is in my mind no matter the circumstances. It always will be."

"It doesn't have to be," Sara pressed. "Not with me. It pains me that it is on your mind so often with anyone at all, but most of all with me. I've seen you without it – I've kissed you without it, but even in bed you keep the mask between us."

"What do you want me to say, Sara?"

"I don't want you to _say_ anything, Erik, my husband. Look at us. I am as intimate and vulnerable to you as I can possibly be. Whatever you want from me, you can have. But you, you to this day have your guard up even after I have vowed before Allah that I am yours forever, even with your child in my womb! Don't you trust me?"

This stung Erik deeply to the point where he could not speak, and not because they were untrue; she was his wife, the mother of his child and still deep in his heart he was terrified if Sara were reminded of the horrible things under his mask she would come to her senses and run long and far. It was the same reason he kept the murders from her, and the same reason he would keep his duty as Nadir's general from her as well; a monster of his caliber did not deserve her, and Erik was well aware of it.

Seeming to read his mind, Sara leaned forward and kissed him gently. "I love you, Erik, and not because of how you look. I'm not going anywhere without you. Please trust me enough to let me prove that to you," she urged.

When Erik did not react, Sara frowned and climbed out of bed. Pulling a robe out of her wardrobe she draped it over her shoulders just enough to keep the chill off before moving into the bathroom to wash her face, hoping the fresh water would wash away the tears of hurt and frustration that had begun to fall.

A gentle knock came at the bathroom door. Sara took a small breath and splashed another handful of water on her face before speaking. "Come in."

Erik opened the door but did not step inside. Sara glanced up at his reflection in the mirror and immediately turned to face him in surprise; his face was unmasked, eyes pinned to the floor to avoid his own reflection. Quickly Sara stepped forward, closing the door behind her to hide the mirror and hopefully ease his anxiety. "It's alright, you can look now," she promised.

Tentatively, Erik rose his gaze to meet hers, finding it difficult to hold her eyes for very long. Sara reached forward to cup his ruined face in her hands, ignoring his flinch and reaching up on her toes to kiss him deeply. "I'm not going anywhere, Erik. Not unless you're coming with me," she promised quietly, kissing him again until he finally relented and began to return her kisses just as devotedly.


	20. Chapter 20

When Erik returned to the house under the palace one evening, he found Sara pacing impatiently in the sitting room in the front of the house. Life had been surprisingly calm since the wedding some four months prior. In spite of Sara's absence at the palace, if anyone seemed to suspect Erik's involvement they certainly did not say. A party had been sent to the palace in-progress to ask around about her, but every man on the site kept quiet on the subject about the wedding and the occasional appearance of a pregnant woman visiting the merchant up the hill.

At seven months pregnant, Sara's odd behavior caused Erik's heart to sink the moment he walked in the door. "What's wrong? Are you feeling ill?"

Sara shook her head fervently and held out a letter for him to take. "It's Nadir. He's gone missing."

Surprised, Erik took the letter and read carefully. It was short and simple, from one of Nadir's most trusted men explaining that the Daroga had been missing for two days after meeting with the Sultan in spite of careful searching.

"It must have taken at least a day for this letter to come… That makes three whole days he's been gone without telling anyone. Erik what if the Sultan found someone else to kill him since you refused? This isn't like him." She fretted, tears welling in her eyes as she clung to the life in her belly for comfort.

"I'll go to the palace and look for him myself," Erik promised, placing the letter on the table to pack a saddle bag immediately.

"I'm coming with you –"

Turning on his heel, Erik's gaze fell on her hard. "You will do no such thing."

"I'm pregnant, not an invalid!" Sara snapped. "He's my brother, I'm going to help you find him."

"Yes, your sudden appearance with a rather far along child in your belly will go _swimmingly_," Erik retorted. "I can make up some excuse to be there if I'm discovered, but with you there I _will_ be discovered and will have no way to explain you without confessing everything. It's too dangerous, you will wait here. Besides, as far along as you are riding so far might put you in labor, or worse – what if you fall?"

Sara's jaw tightened and she sat while Erik packed quickly, unable to argue his last point. As far along as she was, a fall from the horse would almost certainly kill the life growing inside her. It was a risk she could not take, no matter how strongly her heart urged her to go and find her brother.

When Erik noticed the somber look on her face, he leaned over to kiss her and rested a hand over her belly. "If I find him, I'll bring him back here. That way you can see he's alright for yourself."

Sara nodded gently and returned the kiss. "Be safe, and be quick."

Erik was on his way out the door when Sara spoke again. "Erik – if you do find him and he's…" Sara could not bring herself to say that her brother, the man who had raised her and her only living family might be dead.

"I'll come back to bring you to bury him," the masked man promised before vanishing out the door into the labyrinth of passages leading up to the surface.

* * *

Three days after Erik departed he returned, all but carrying Nadir in with the Daroga's arm draped over his shoulders. Sara had been sleeping fitfully on the chaise when they entered, wanting to be there when they arrived but too tired to stay awake for so long. As soon as the door closed she woke with a start, gasping at the sight of her brother nearly unconscious as Erik guided him in.

"Allah! What is wrong with him?"

"I found him in our forest; he had heat stroke." Erik explained.

Sara paled at the news. "_Our_ forest?"

"The Sultana," Nadir croaked. "She's been using it to torture prisoners."

"It was hotter than high summer in there when I found him, and the day-night cycle was off entirely. She's put her tiger in the outside room and it roars with hunger; she means to drive anyone inside mad," the masked man explained.

Moving quickly to fetch the men water, tears in her eyes; that place had been their sanctuary, a forest filled with beauty and love. To hear that it had become so bastardized was simply heartbreaking. Erik helped Nadir into bed, propping him up with several pillows while Sara pressed the water into his hands. Weak as he was, it took all of Nadir's energy to lift the glass to his lips and drink. "I can't believe she would do such a thing… Is he going to be alright?"

Erik gave a small nod. "With time, yes. He'll need sleep and plenty of fluids. It will be good for him to stay down here out of the sun."

When Erik stood to make his leave, Nadir rested a hand on his arm. "Thank you, Brother. You saved my life."

"It was my invention that nearly killed you. Consider us even," Erik promised, slipping out of the room to leave Sara to tend to the Daroga.

Some time later the woman emerged to find her husband soaking in the hot water of their bath. To her surprise he was without a mask, but when she knocked he bid her entry regardless. "How is he?"

"He's asleep," Sara said, moving to sit on the edge of the bath to lace her fingers with his. "I'm glad you're home. I was starting to worry."

"I'm sorry. We could only travel at night, and not very quickly with his state," Erik apologized. "He's lucky to be alive and with most of his wits about him."

After testing the water to be sure it was not too hot, the woman slipped out of her dress to join her husband in the bath. When she lay back against his chest, Erik wrapped his arms around her tightly and rested his chin upon her should.

"How did it happen? Nadir's not the sort to go wandering into trouble."

"I'm not certain – he wasn't making much sense when I asked him," Erik began. "But from what I gather the Sultan arrested him and the Sultana took him from there. I met with some of the men before I found him, and again shortly after – they are taking this as a declaration of war."

Sara pulled his arms more tightly around her and frowned. "I suppose they're right. Nadir can't go back there until the war is won… Erik, I'm frightened. Revolution is an easy enough idea, but -"

Erik silenced her with a tight squeeze and a soft kiss. "It will not be easy. But Nadir is wise, and as much as I hate to admit it so are his men. Their strategy is solid."

"When did they tell you their strategy?" Sara asked, glancing over her shoulder at him with a curious look.

There was a long silence before Erik answered. "Not long after the wedding. I've been advising them on it by letter."

"I didn't know you were writing them. Isn't that dangerous? The Sultana was reading our letters wasn't she?"

"I've been sending them through my best worker. He has a wife back in the palace and is sympathetic to our cause. He brings the letter with him when he goes home and brings their responses when he returns."

Burrowing further into his chest, Sara turned her head to rest on the crook of his shoulder. "Your cleverness never ceases to amaze me, Husband," she smiled. "I have to admit though – I'm glad that's all you'll be doing for them. I don't envy the wives of soldiers in times like this, and I already have Nadir to worry about."

When Erik did not respond, Sara glanced back at him. "Erik? Please tell me you haven't agreed to fight."

"Not exactly," he admitted, and Sara immediately turned to face him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I've agreed to put some of my other talents to use, just not on the battlefield."

Sara looked at him incredulously. "They plan to make you an assassin, don't they? I have half a mind to toss Nadir back into the forest!" The woman spat. "Erik I'm going to have a baby, _our_ baby, I can't do it without you here. I can't raise a baby by myself!"

"No one is asking you to, Sara," Erik said calmly. "I'll be here with you."

"Not if you're caught you won't be!" Sara pressed, the alarm at the very idea obvious in her eyes. "If you're caught you'll be hanged, or worse! And if you aren't caught, Erik, even _if_ you are so lucky to survive murder after murder, do you really think you can come home after taking a man's life and hold our child, hold _me_ with blood on your hands?"

Erik's eyes narrowed then. "What are you saying, Sara?"

"I'm saying our child deserves more than an assassin for a father! The baby deserves a magician, an architect, a brilliant mind but not a murderer!"

Standing from the bath, Erik pulled his robe over his shoulders and tied it tightly. "It's too late for that isn't it?" The man drawled, his voice so dark it made Sara shiver in the warm water.

"You know that isn't what I –" She began, but was interrupted.

"I've killed twelve men since your first husband, political assassinations for the Sultan," Erik spat, turning to face her again just as the look of horror crept onto her face. "About ten of those have been since I knew you were pregnant, and four since we were married so you see your child _will_ have a murderer for a father whether that is your intent or not."

With those final words, Erik stalked from the bathroom and slammed the door behind him with a loud crash. Another bang soon followed, and Sara knew he had left the house on some unknown errand to quell his rage.

Alone, she covered her face and cried.

* * *

It was impossible to tell night from day under the palace without any windows, but Sara's instinct for telling such things had grown keen. When Erik came back at nearly five on the clock, she knew immediately it was five in the morning and not in time for dinner even though she had not been able to sleep a minute since he left.

Rubbing almond oil on her belly, she could feel the life inside her flutter in response to her anxiety when Erik came stumbling into the bedroom far from gracefully. Almost as soon as he entered, her nose wrinkled at a smoky, vaguely familiar smell. "Ugh, Erik where have you been? You smell terrible."

"Never you mind, damnable woman," Erik grumbled, stripping free of his clothes. "If secrets are the only way to keep you from getting angry with me, secrets it will be."

"You're drunk, that much isn't a secret," the woman murmured, watching as he practically fell into bed beside her. She covered herself carefully, praying as hard as she could that Erik would not try and sleep with her in his current state; she was far from willing and although she would consent it would be as an obedient wife and not an act of love. She dared not think how such an event might change her feelings toward him.

Fortunately, Erik seemed more exhausted than anything and was content to close his eyes and drape an arm over her to sleep off his affliction. Sara tried to hold her breath against the smell that lingered on his skin and underclothes but was unsuccessful. With a small cough, she slipped out of his grasp and from the bed entirely.

"Where are you going?"

"You smell like smoke, I can hardly breathe. Besides, it's five in the morning – I'm going to make breakfast. I'll leave something in the oven for you to eat when you wake," she promised, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Rather than going to the kitchen, Sara moved into Nadir's room. To her surprise, the light was on and her brother was awake, reading.

"Good morning – or evening, whatever time of day it is," Nadir said, already sounding far better than he had the day before.

Sara smiled, genuine but difficult all the same. "It's morning. You've been asleep nearly a whole day. How do you feel?"

When Sara sat on the edge of his bed, Nadir patted her hand reassuringly. "Weak, but I haven't had a proper meal in days," he dismissed. "I'm sure once you get the chance to fatten me up again I'll be just fine. Sara – why do you smell like hashish?"

The expectant mother paled. "_That's_ what the smell is!" She breathed, moving from her brother's side with her hands over her mouth. "He's been smoking hashish! Opium is bad enough, but assassin's weed? This is all your fault!" Sara spat suddenly, taking a pillow from a nearby chair and throwing it at her brother in anger.

"Sara what do you mean, what is going on?"

Collapsing into tears, Sara explained everything Erik had told her the previous day, and about how he had left for hours and returned wreaking of hashish.

"You're the Daroga of Mazanderan, Nadir, how could you let this happen?" The woman sobbed. "How could you let him kill and then _ask_ him to kill more? He's my _husband_, the father of my child, your own brother!"

"Sara, we need him," Nadir explained with a frown, patting the place beside him in bed to bid her to sit. "If I didn't think he would be safe, I would never have asked."

"What am I supposed to tell our children when they ask about these days in our lives, Nadir? They'll want to hear stories about how their father helped in the war, and what will I say? That he strangled unarmed men in their sleep?"

"You tell them that he built the palace they will be living in, and all of the secret passages I'm certain they will enjoy exploring if they are anything like your husband," Nadir said calmly. "You tell them there would have been no revolution at all without his help in that respect."

"But Nadir… what sort of man can do such a thing? He's been killing all this time and never said a word. There have been nights he's come home late and made love to me – what if there was blood on his hands those nights? What sort of man can murder and return home to love his wife? It isn't right!"

Nadir spoke at length, "I doubt the nights he killed are nights he spent with you. His morals are… questionable at times, but I would not have allowed you to marry him if I thought he was so twisted. He feels remorse, Sara, I know he does. He simply has difficulty showing it, even to you. Maybe even especially to you. He knows you need him to be strong. Erik was not easily convinced to assassinate for us, but what he has agreed to do will save many lives. It may be that because of him there never needs to be open warfare. If he can reduce the morale of the Sultan's supporters enough for me to speak with them, the coup may be relatively peaceful in comparison to those past."

With a frown, Sara sat beside her brother again and shook her head. "I don't know, Nadir… Even if everything you say is true and he is as perfectly sane and extraordinarily wonderful as when I fell in love with him and all these secrets mean nothing… What if something happens to him? What if he's discovered and killed? My heart couldn't take it."

"I wish I could assure you that none of that would happen – but my darling sister, these are frightening times. Assassin or not Erik would still be in danger simply because of his marriage to you and friendship with me. Saving my life made him a marked man, if he wasn't already," Nadir pointed out.

Sara could only wrap her arms around her swollen middle, protecting the life inside her from the realities of the world outside while she cried.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:** Short one today! Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Sara sat by her husband dutifully when he woke later in the day sick to his stomach. She rubbed his back and wiped his face with a cool cloth until his stomach was empty before bringing a pitcher of water to place by the beside. Not a word was said between them until Erik had crawled back into bed and shut his eyes to ease the throbbing in his head.

"What happened last night?" he asked, the sound of his own voice making him flinch.

"I wouldn't know; you left and came home at dawn drunk on alcohol and hashish," Sara explained, her voice even while she poured a glass of water for her husband.

After accepting the glass and taking a long drink, Erik spoke again and found his voice none improved. "We fought, didn't we?"

"I wouldn't call it a fight. I told you I didn't want our child's father to be an assassin, and you assured me it was already too late for that. Twelve men was the current body count," the young mother said, refilling the glass without so much as looking at him. "Then you left. What is the number now, Erik? Thirteen, fourteen?"

"I didn't kill anyone last night," the masked man said.

Sara's voice was rich with sarcasm. "Right, back to secrets. I can't be angry with you if I don't know anything."

"I didn't kill anyone last night," Erik pressed again eyes fixated on hers to urge her gaze up to his.

"Forget I even asked," Sara dismissed, moving away from the bedside hardly a step before Erik grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"I am telling you I didn't kill anyone; why don't you believe me?"

Shaking her head and giving a small, sad laugh Sara gathered herself before speaking. "You lied to me, Erik. You've been lying to me for half a _year_ and what's worse you broke your promise. You swore you would never kill again, but twelve men are dead! How am I supposed to believe you knowing all that, especially when you come home smelling like hashish?"

"I never lied," Erik said sharply. "I never told you the whole truth, but I never lied."

"Did you ever touch me after killing a man?" She asked suddenly, jade eyes boring into his for the first time intent on detecting any hint of a lie in his mask-covered face. "Did you ever caress me, hold me, kiss me, make love to me the same night you took a life?"

When Erik's gaze lowered Sara ripped her wrist free from his grasp. "You did! How _could_ you, Erik?" Sara cried in disgust, backing away and holding herself tightly to fend off the growing nausea in her stomach.

"Once! It was once, and it wasn't how you think!" Erik insisted, hoping past hope his words would reach her. "Most of the nights I found an excuse to be away from you; every death weighed so heavy on my heart! I consulted with Nadir before even committing the first murder because I knew it would break my vow to you, but the assassinations were necessary evils. I wanted to keep those appalling things separate from my life with you, but there was one night I needed your comfort terribly. You could tell I was depressed, and took me to bed to comfort me and raise my spirits without even asking what it was bothering me."

Sara was sobbing by the time Erik finished, shaking her head numbly. "There was more than one night like that, Erik," she managed through her tears. "Far more than one."

"Only one night did I kill, I swear it. The others were workplace frustrations or mood swings. The other nights were nights I never saw you at all. Before we moved here I simply stayed the night out here while you were in the other palace, but after we moved they were nights I stayed up in my tent to work late."

Taking a shaking breath to steady herself, Sara spoke as levelly as she could manage through her tears. "I am your wife, Erik. What that word means, I leave up to you – as your wife I am obligated to give you myself whenever you please and to support you through anything. It is my duty and a promise I made to you before Allah. I thought when I accepted that duty that I was far more than that to you. I thought you viewed me as a partner, someone you wanted to share your life with on top of someone would take care of your house and your children."

"I don't want a wife who is duty-bound," Erik promised, his heart stinging with her words. "I want you to _want_ to wake up beside me every day, I want companionship."

"You kept a terrible, terrible secret from me, Erik. In a matter of months you killed twelve men after swearing to me you would never kill again. That secret is almost as awful as the acts you committed – at least those were for a greater cause."

"I kept it from you because I didn't want to hurt you! I saw how afraid you were when I killed those men on your wedding night, I never wanted to cause that pain again."

Sara shook her head and laughed humorlessly. "Then you should have kept your promise," she said simply, "because this? This feels worse. I have to get up to the merchant before he closes for the night; I should only be out two hours at the most. There's soup in the pot on the stove if you find your appetite."

With that, Sara slipped from the room leaving Erik with an aching head and a heavy heart.

"Ah, Miss Sara. I was beginning to think you might not make it tonight."

The merchant Erik had paid to stay open for her some months prior was an amiable old man, honest and eager to please (although Sara suspected the large sum her husband had given the merchant helped in that respect). He had been immensely helpful in keeping the house under the palace stocked with food and drink, as well as general supplies and homely decorations. Sara had grown rather fond of the man in the months since she had moved under the new palace.

She didn't have time to make her excuses before the man noticed her red and puffy eyes. "You've been crying! Is everything alright?"

"Yes yes, everything is fine," she promised unconvincingly. "The baby has me all emotional is all."

"Child, I have a wife and three daughters with children of their own – I know pregnant women and their emotions, and I know when something is wrong."

Already feeling like she might cry again, Sara wiped at her eyes with the back of her hands and laughed some. "You caught me. It's just trouble at home, nothing you ought to worry about."

"All the same, take these," the merchant insisted, placing a paper bag on the counter of his stall and gesturing for her to take it. "Cinnamon roasted almonds. I've never met a hardship something sweet couldn't help."

Again the young mother laughed quietly. "I suppose not. Thank you, Faraz. They smell wonderful."

"My wife's recipe, I'll bring it for you next time. Which reminds me, I found the items you asked me for a few weeks back, the trinkets from France?"

Taking a few of the sweet almonds, Sara sighed some. "That is life, isn't it? My first true fight with my husband and the gifts I wanted for him arrive the same day. May I look?"

"Yes, of course," the merchant said, moving through his booth to bring out a newspaper, a pound of French tea, three kinds of cheese and a bottle of Bordeaux wine before speaking again casually. "There is a long road ahead of you. You won't even remember what this fight was about when you're as old and wrinkled as I am."

"I don't know," Sara admitted, looking over the items curiously. "It wasn't a small fight."

"They never are, at the time," Faraz countered. "But fights are short and marriage is a lifetime. Your husband has a taste for France I see?"

"He is French," Sara explained. "I thought some things to remind him of home might please him."

"Such a loving wife! Make sure you tell him how hard these were to come by, so he appreciates them all the more. I'm sure he already knows how hard a loving bride is to come by, but you can remind him of that too," the man said with a kind smile.

"Thank you, Faraz," Sara replied, smiling now herself. "What do you have left by way of produce and milk?"

* * *

Sara returned to the house in a better mood than when she had left, although she still found herself dreading that last step from the passages into the house. She had been harsh with Erik, though not unjustly she knew. Even still, knowing Erik feared she would one day leave him she ought to have gone about expressing her anger more tactfully. Is such a thing ever possible? Words fall out of mouths so easily in the heat of anger and upset!

Much to her surprise, Erik was in the kitchen when she walked in and set down the two bags of foodstuffs she'd brought back with her from the merchant. "Are you hungry? If you can wait a few minutes I brought –"

"I made dinner," Erik interrupted. When Sara's look went from one of surprise to hurt understanding, he continued, approaching her slowly as if not to drive her away. "I made dinner for _both_ of us. I don't want some dutiful little woman who cooks my dinner and cleans my house, Sara. I can do that for myself. I will spend the rest of my life earning back your love if I have to, but I hope more than anything it doesn't take so long; I miss you."

Sara took a small, shaky breath and placed a hand on his chest. When she looked up at him, there were tears swimming in her eyes. "I do love you, Erik. More than anything; that is never going to change. I just… I love the man who spent his time prying open columns in the garden and teaching Reza French. It's hard to think of that same man as being a killer."

"I'm no different now than I was then," Erik vowed. "I had killed before then too, remember? And do you remember when I told you how deeply it depressed me, how much I hated it? That hasn't changed either. What _has_ changed is this time is the deaths are with some semblance of a purpose greater than highway robbery, more so if I work for your brother."

"You mean 'when'."

"I mean 'if'," the masked man pressed. "I kept my work for the Sultan a secret from you because I was afraid the truth would hurt you, and it did. No more secrets – I planned to kill again, but if you ask me not to, I will honor my promise and tell Nadir to find another way. I know you have no reason to believe me after I broke my last promise to you, but it is the truth."

"You already promised Nadir," Sara reasoned quietly. "You'd have to break your promise to one of us."

"I'm not married to Nadir," Erik said simply. Sara laughed and wiped at her eyes to keep them dry. "I'm not in love with Nadir, I'm in love with you. My promise to you is the one I would keep, is one I should have kept months ago."

"Erik… I cannot ask you not to kill again, not with war coming. But promise me you will only take a life to protect your own or to protect our family?"

"I promise, Sara," Erik said. "And I promise no more secrets; they've proven to be more harmful than the truth."

Reaching up on her toes, Sara placed her lips gently on his. "Thank you. I'm sorry if I made you think for a moment that you weren't loved. So much was happening all at once, I didn't know what to think…"

Erik returned her kiss tenderly. "I'm sorry if I made you feel the same. My intent was only ever to protect you… why do you taste like cinnamon?"

The suddenness of Erik's question after such a sober conversation made Sara laugh brightly, and Erik smiled at the sound in relief.


	22. Chapter 22

It was an entire month after Nadir was liberated from forest-turned-torture-chamber before the Sultan sent men out to the construction site of the new palace demanding to see the architect. Of course by the time the soldiers rode into camp, the man was nowhere to be found.

Erik stood in the shadows, both amused by and proud of his men when they were confronted by the Sultan's soldiers. He treated them well, and in spite of his reputation for having a short temper and impatient nature the men proved loyal, each one either claiming ignorance or inventing some grandiose story about their employer. The most mundane stories involved him running off weeks ago with the Daroga's sister, while others were far more inventive.

"You know, I hear he was never really alive to begin with. They say he was born dead – that's why he wears that mask, and have you noticed he's always got on gloves? He's really a skeleton in men's clothes; a ghost! He comes and goes as he pleases, bossing us about and vanishing into thin air."

This elicited chuckles from some of the other men, although the guard on horseback was not hardly so amused. "You all think this is some kind of joke, do you?" The guard growled from his saddle, drawing his sword and aiming the point at the worker who had spoken.

The worker paled. "N-no, Sir."

"Really? So you expect me to believe he's magicked himself invisible, and run off China to be married, and a shape-shifter, _and_ a ghost? Sounds like quite a laugh to me!"

Just then, Erik's voice rang out from everywhere and nowhere all at once. "A laugh indeed! Why, every last thing you've heard today is absolutely absurd. Here I am, not missing at all!"

Even Erik's workers, familiar with his voice as they were started when they spun about and could not find him anywhere. "Show yourself, architect! By order of the Sultan!"

When the man spoke again, it was from his own mouth. There he was, standing among his men as if he had been there the whole time. "Show myself? But here I am!"

Before the mounted men could reach him, Erik around the corner of the nearest tent. Just as he was being followed, he spoke again. To their immense surprise, he was now standing behind them. "You're going the wrong way, good Sirs!"

Quickly as they could, the men turned their horses. Again the man vanished around a corner only to reappear in a new place still, off to the right. "My my, what _are_ you going to say when the Sultan asks why six of his best men could not catch one lowly architect?"

"Perhaps I should make the odds a little better," came the same voice, this time to the left of the soldiers. But the first man had not moved - to the shock of everyone in sight, two masked men now stood in the ring of tents, clothed in black from head to toe and masked in the same shade.

One of the soldiers shouted in alarm, and even the lead man among them could not contain his fear. "What sort of witchcraft is this?"

Neither man responded. Instead, a deep, dark laugh began to bubble up from the very tents themselves. It was quiet at first, mocking the soldiers and growing in intensity until it became so loud the horses the soldiers rode began to panic. Giving up the hunt, the soldiers cursed the Magician and left the worksite even more quickly than they had come.

It was not until the soldiers were well and truly gone did the masked men approach one another. As they drew closer, differences between them became more apparent – one man was markedly taller than the other, and leaner. And wasn't the shorter man's skin darker?

When the shorter man removed his mask, the growing crowd of men gasped. Nadir Khan stood before them, and clasped the architect on the shoulder before speaking to the crowd. "I have met many of you already, but for those I have not had the pleasure to meet allow me to introduce myself – My name is Nadir Khan, and until recently I was the Daroga of Mazandaran. Several days ago, an attempt was made on my life by our Sultan. Needless to say, I have tendered my resignation."

Several men laughed, although the atmosphere was still one of curiosity and nerves. Nadir continued at length. "Some of you may not know why an attempt was made on my life; It is the current opinion of many, including many among you now that our Sultan and his line have ruined our great country with their cruelty and foolishness. They tax us and spend our money on palaces like this, with no purpose at all besides to flaunt their wealth. They order innocent men killed simply because they have spoken out against the royal family. Some they have ordered kill purely on a whim, and more disturbing still men have been killed for our Sultana's pleasure. I can no longer stand by and allow this to happen to my people. With the help of my friends, I have decided to rise up against the Sultan and his terrible queen so that I may take the throne my ancestors once occupied."

"From this moment forward I claim this palace as my own, unfinished though it may be," Nadir announced, pausing only a moment to allow the sudden murmurs in the crowd to calm. "If any of you object to my actions or wish to take no side at all, you are free to leave here today; no one will stop you, no grudge will be held and you will not be retaliated against if you leave in peace. If any of you choose to take up arms against me, you will be arrested but assuredly treated far more humanely than I was in my imprisonment. For the rest of you, those who are as sick of this absurd and wicked rule as I am, I invite you to stay. If you choose to continue to work on the palace, room and board will be provided in exchange. Invite your families – several of the floors of the palace are now livable as you well know, and there is room for you all."

When Nadir was through speaking, cheers rang out among the men. Many stepped forward to shake the man's hand, expressing their gratitude and support for the end of the Sultan's rule. When finally the men dispersed, Erik and Nadir made their way into the palace and back down into the house underground.

"I don't know how you wear this thing," Nadir remarked, passing back the black leather mask he had borrowed from the Magician before pulling off his gloves. "It's terribly stifling."

"Fashion and comfort rarely go hand in hand," the man explained casually, causing the Daroga to laugh heartily before Erik continued. "Not a single man chose to leave. You ought to barter with the farms south of here, offer them protection in return for food."

"They know the Sultan was building this palace to bully them into paying more taxes – I doubt they would mind simply transferring what they're already giving over to us if we agree not to raise their taxes anymore," Nadir reasoned, and Erik nodded his agreement.

Sara was waiting for them when they returned. "You're back! Were the soldiers frightened? How many where there? Did the speech go well?"

Nadir chuckled and embraced his sister before stepping aside. "There were six, and they were quite frightened. Your husband laid out a brilliant plan."

The young woman glowed with quiet pride as Erik embraced her with a kiss. "I can't say I'm surprised."

"It's a shame he won't be assisting in the war in other ways," Nadir remarked, not for the first time. The masked man rolled his eyes and Sara kissed him again before he spoke.

"What did you do while we were out?"

"I have so much energy today, even though I've been cramping a bit," she explained. "I cleaned the entire house top to bottom and put a few finishing touches on the nursery. I started supper, too – I should check on it," Sara realized, moving off into the kitchen quickly.

Nadir could not help but laugh at his sister's behavior. "Sanas was the same way," he explained to Erik, who sat across from him in another chair. "Right before she had the baby she was as energetic and flighty as a sparrow."

"It is charming," Erik admitted with an amused look toward the kitchen. "She's been in a splendid mood."

"And you? The clock is ticking, how are you handling it?"

With a thoughtful look, Erik leaned back in the chair. "Honestly, it's been half a year that I've known we were expecting a baby and I'm still trying to wrap my head around it all. If you had told me a year ago any of this would be happening I would have struck you for taunting me. I'm nervous," he admitted, looking back to Nadir. "I was born breech, more dead than alive and I nearly killed my mother in the process. I hope my child is easier on her than I was on my mother. Not to mention the possibility the child is born with my face…"

Nadir nodded gravely. "All valid concerns. Only time will tell; rest assured though that Sara is young and strong, and that regardless of what the baby is born looking like she will adore it for as long as she lives simply because it's yours."

"I'm not worried about how she will treat it, not anymore. But the world was cruel to me and will be no kinder to a child born as I am," Erik reasoned.

"Persia has not been so cruel to you," Nadir countered. "You have work, friendship, love; what more does one need?"

Just then the sound of glass breaking from the kitchen brought both men to their feet before Sara choked out a pained cry. She had fallen back against the counter, one arm behind her to keep from sinking to the floor and the other grasping low on her belly. Erik was beside her in an instant, helping her steadily onto her feet.

Allowing Erik to lead her from the kitchen, she his hand so tightly Erik's knuckles ground together under her strength. "Something's wrong, Erik something's wrong!"

"Contractions. Lay her down and see if they pass," Nadir instructed. Erik did as he was told, sitting beside her and allowing Sara to squeeze his hand.

"Contractions? It's too soon," Sara gasped through her pain, a worried look etched in her face.

"Don't you remember when Sanas was having contractions weeks before Reza ever came?" The Daroga reminded her, reassuringly.

"Did hers hurt so terribly?" The woman asked, her grip on Erik's hand easing some as the pain began to abate.

"No," Nadir admitted. "She was uncomfortable but not in pain."

"Does it still hurt?" Erik asked, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Not nearly so bad, but I can still feel the pressure."

The masked man hummed to himself, and Sara frowned as she looked up at him. "What is it, Erik?"

"If you really are going into labor, the nearest midwife is a day's horse ride away, and it will take another day to fetch her," he explained.

"I can't be in labor yet," Sara reasoned, her voice desperate and she attempted to sit up. "It's too soon!"

"Stay down," Erik bade her. "At least for a few minutes."

Nadir spoke then. "I'll go and find someone to tend to her –"

"Where, Daroga? There aren't any women at the worksite, and you're a wanted man. If you leave now you may not come back at all," the masked man said, his stress beginning to show in his voice.

"Please don't leave," Sara begged of her husband, squeezing his hand again. "What if I have the baby while you're gone?"

"I'm not going, either," Erik promised. "If this is true labor and not a false alarm, we're on our own."

* * *

The baby was born on the forty-first hour of labor to an exhausted and delirious mother. Collapsing back against her pillows and drenched in sweat, it was instinct more than sense that made her aware of the absence of a particular sound in the room.

"Why isn't the baby crying?"

Cutting the cord, Erik left the room quickly with the newborn in tow. It was only then that the new mother began to panic, grasping for Nadir's hand and attempting to sit up once more. "Where is he taking it? Nadir why isn't the baby crying?"

"Lay down, Sara," Nadir pressed, glancing over his shoulder at the open door. "You're exhausted, the baby is just fine. Erik went to clean it up is all. Let me go see where he's at."

Slipping from the room, Erik found hunched over the kitchen table rubbing the small newborn's chest with firm pressure and muttering what Nadir thought must have been prayers in his native tongue. From time to time he leaned in breathe air into the baby's lungs.

After a minute that stretched into eternity, the newborn's cries choked to life and the masked man fell back into a chair heavy with relief. To Nadir's ears, it was the sweetest sound known to man.

"Allah is merciful," the Daroga breathed, moving toward father and child to clasp Erik's shoulder tightly.

"I don't think I've ever been so frightened," Erik admitted, his fatigue evident in his voice and posture in the chair before he leaned forward to clean the newborn with great care.

"A girl – I doubt this is the last time she'll frighten you, if I know fathers and their daughters," the older man mused. "She's perfect, Erik. You must be relieved."

The Daroga spoke the truth – the girl was perfection. Born three weeks early she was small even for a newborn, surely no more than five pounds in weight but with a hearty cry now that she had found her breath. As Erik swaddled her in the warmest cloth he could find, he inspected her carefully for any sign of scars like his own and found not so much as a birth mark marring her milky, delicate skin. "Enormously relieved," Erik admitted, standing with the newborn carefully positioned in his arms to return to his wife.

Tired and emotionally overwhelmed, the new mother cried happily at the sight of Erik with their child. "It's a girl," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed to pass the baby to her mother.

"A girl," Sara cried, cradling the infant against her breast and running a hand over the beginnings of hair on the child's head, little more than peach fuzz. "She's so little…"

"She looks healthy – that's all that matters right now," Erik promised. "We'll need to be careful to keep her warm."

"If I never let her go she can't ever get cold," Sara reasoned, and Erik chuckled quietly. "We never decided on names, did we?"

"No, we never did. Why don't we name her after your mother?"

Sara glanced up at her husband with a small smile. "Could we? I always thought Amitis was such a lovely name."

"I think it suites her," Erik promised. "Amitis she is."


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note:** Happy new year! Sorry this took so long - between the holidays and scholarship application essays I've been pretty strapped for time. I hope to get another chapter up before the weekend.

* * *

Amitis was a dream come true, to an almost unnerving extent. She only cried when she was hungry or cold, which was less often each passing week. The sound of her cries was not all-together unpleasing like the cries of other newborns Sara had heard. She wondered if it was only because Amitis was her own daughter that she found the sound to be more of a song than a true cry or if the girl would take after Erik in the ways he could manipulate his voice.

Although the girl would likely always been smaller than her peers, she was growing at a steady pace and had few troubles with her health outside of the scare she had given her parents at birth. That did not stop Erik from fretting over the girl at times, not that the child seemed to mind. At four months old the infant was already terribly fond of her father.

"Pa pa pa papa pa pa,"

Erik and Nadir stood over a map rolled out onto the kitchen table when the sound of the infant's babbles rang from the doorway behind them. The masked man turned with a smile to see Sara with little Amitis balanced on her hip. Her hair was sparse but growing wavy like her mother's, and in the past few days her baby-blue eyes had begun to grow flecks of gold.

"Sorry to interrupt – she's been talking about you non-stop," Sara said, bouncing the girl on her hip while the girl reached out one hand toward her father.

"Ma chérie! Combien de joie que tu m'apportes! Venez dire bonjour à ton papa," Erik bade the child, reaching out to take her from Sara and lifting her high to plant a kiss on the infant's cheek.

The girl squealed in delight and continued to babble, adoring the attention of her father. Leaning over to kiss his wife as well, Erik spoke again. "Ma femme belle, je t'adore."

With a smile, Sara kissed him back. "I have no idea what you said but it was very pretty."

"We ought to fix that. I'd like our daughter to grow up knowing French, you might as well learn too."

"I'd like that," Sara promised.

"I hope you two aren't running off to Paris while the rest of us are at war," Nadir quipped.

"Don't be such a grump, Brother," the young woman reprimanded. "Just because there is a war doesn't mean we can't be happy from time to time. You ought to try it."

The Daroga let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry. I've been very stressed and it certainly isn't your fault. If anything living with your family and your charming little angel have been a relief."

"She is my treasure," Erik praised, running a hand over the short waves of black on the girl's head.

"I was planning to visit the merchant up the hill, did you want to join me?" Sara offered her husband, and the man nodded agreeably before patting the Daroga's back.

"Don't work too much longer, Nadir. We have time yet before we must strike."

The older man merely hummed as Erik moved off with his wife and daughter before calling after them. "Do you want me to watch Amitis?"

"We'll take her with us," Erik promised, glancing at his daughter with a look of amusement as she waved sloppily to her uncle over his shoulder.

Sara allowed Erik to carry their daughter as she slipped her arm in his to walk out of the underground house. "Is everything going alright? I haven't seen Nadir this stressed in quite a while," the woman asked.

Balancing Amitis on his hip, Erik turned his gaze to his wife. "Everything is fine, we're simply getting support slower than expected. The others thought once the palace was taken nearly every able-bodied man would take up arms in rebellion but that hasn't happened."

"Is that what you thought?"

"No, it was an unrealistic dream. Revolutions don't happen overnight, and I should know – the French practically invented revolution."

Sara laughed and Erik smiled down to her. "Would you like to start your lessons?"

"Certainly."

"Very well, repeat after me," Erik announced before continuing, pronouncing each word in turn to allow her to follow. "Mon mari est le meilleur amant en Perse."

Pronouncing each word after him, Sara struggled some with the strangeness of the syllables. "Mon mari est le meilleur amant en Perse," she grinned. "What does it mean?"

"'My husband is the best lover in Persia'," Erik explained, laughing heartily when Sara blushed and smacked his arm.

"Erik! The baby!"

"The baby doesn't know any more French than you do," the masked man promised as Sara took his arm again. Together the emerged from the labyrinth just outside of the palace walls, practicing more phrases as they walked up to the merchant who served as their only connection to the world beyond the palace.

They were not alone; with so many men now living in the palace the merchant had recruited several close friends and family members to meet the needs of the group. Where once a single tent had stood there were now three and the makings of a small bazaar was bustling.

"Bonjour, je m'appelle Sara."

"Very good," Erik praised. "'Je t'aime'. I love you."

Sara smiled up to him before lifting up on her toes to kiss him. "Je t'aime."

Returning the kiss, Erik passed Amitis to his wife when she reached for the infant. The merchant Erik had paid months before spotted them and called out. "Miss Sara! Tell me this is your precious daughter I've been hearing about!"

The young mother grinned and moved over to the man she had befriended in the months of her pregnancy to show off her daughter. Erik smiled, his heart filled by the sight of the family he never imagined he would have. He thought back on the young husband he had seen when traveling with the Thugs and his desire to be that man; what he had now was better still. No man loved a woman as much as Erik loved his wife, and no man was ever so proud of his child.

"Lord Magician! It's an honor to see you, Sir," one of the men greeted Erik, drawing his attention away from his family. When the man extended his hand, Erik shook it firmly.

"What is your name, My Friend?"

"Darius, My Lord. I was a chamberlain and guard for the Sultana while you were serving as her Magician, but like you I am tired of her cruelty. I was told to seek you and the Daroga out here if I wished to aid in your cause."

The man was somewhat older than Erik, thin and likely a eunuch judging by his former career but he looked strong enough to wield a weapon. "We are happy to have your services, Darius. Might I ask what the breaking point was for you? I hear terrible stories but little from inside the Sultana's own chambers."

Walking with Erik through the booths, Darius recalled stories of the Sultana's developing lust for blood and the woman's descent into madness. "It isn't natural, Lord Magician. She's started killing off the older girls in the harem and… well, and bathing in their blood. She's lost her mind, killing so many of them. You were right to get Miss Sara out when you did."

"I hadn't much of a choice," Erik admitted. "But it's a comfort to know I wasn't too late. She's my wife now, did you hear?"

The man smiled. "I thought she might be, when she vanished. My congratulations. We guards were always fond of her and the others like her. Quiet and kind… a rare sort in this day. Is she with you now?"

"She went to show our daughter to the merchant in the main booth," Erik explained, glancing over his shoulder at the booth. Unable to spot her in the thinning crowd, the masked man frowned some. "At least she was. She must have gone to another vendor."

Darius followed when Erik moved to get a better look around the tents that had begun to close for the evening, beginning to wonder if Sara had gone home without him. Unable to find her, he approached the merchant Sara was so fond of. The old man smiled graciously even though Erik knew the mask on his face made the vendor anxious.

"You have a most charming daughter, Sir, most charming indeed! I hear she gave you something of a scare when she was born?"

"Yes, she was born nearly a full month early – Sara didn't say she was going home yet, did she?"

The old man shook his head. "No, Sir. She saw you talking with the gentleman you're with now and was making her way to you when I last saw her."

Immediately Erik turned and strode toward the crowd, painfully aware that the worst had happened. "Sara! Sara where are you?"

People began to look at him questioningly, waiting for the woman to call back for him but there was no response. Darius began to call with him, and the old merchant shortly after but the young woman and her child were nowhere to be found.

Sara and Amitis had vanished as if into thin air.

* * *

Two days after mother and child had gone missing, a letter arrived at the palace confirming Erik's worst fear.

_Sara Khan and her child are in my care. Should you wish to see either alive again, the Magician's head is required for ransom. You have one week._

As proof of the letter's claim, a small lock of baby-soft black hair was included in the envelope.

Erik was inconsolable for a day, alternating between the demand to be allowed to leave and rescue his wife and child and collapsing under the weight of his grief.

The time limit given made grieving impossible and with a firm slap across his bare face Nadir brought the grieving to an end, replacing it with fury. Erik went from sobbing to growling in a moment, his grief and rage directed now toward the Daroga who held his mask high.

Before Erik could demand its return Nadir spoke forcefully. "Listen to me, Erik, and listen well – I am not going to abandon Sara and my niece while you sit here and wallow in self pity! They are dead if inaction is our course, do you understand that? Or are you too selfish and horrible a man to comprehend the severity your own wife's situation?"

Erik's mood yet again changed from one of rage to overwhelming grief. Grasping the Daroga's shoulders, he begged. "Kill me, Nadir. Give the bitch my head like she demands. I cannot live if they are dead; killing me to spare them would be a mercy."

"I am not about to abandon you either, Brother," Nadir promised, pressing Erik's mask into his chest until the man grasped it on his own. "I need your mind, Erik. I need you to help me think of a way we can surpass this. Think clearly, My Friend; time is short and we must act quickly if we hope to succeed."

"Don't you think I'm trying, Daroga? Every time I can manage to think of a way to save her I find some… some terrible flaw that gets them both killed and the very thought moves me to tears. I can't eat, I can't sleep… every plan ends in failure!"

"No man can think clearly in such a state as you've been in – it is no wonder your plans all end in failure. You need to breathe, to eat and to _think_, Erik. You, a brilliant magician and flawless thief; I watched you bring flies, butterflies, a bird, a mouse – all of them back to life and then rob every last person who walked into your tent blind. Where is that man now, Erik?"

As Nadir spoke, a look crossed Erik's wretched face. "You're right – I brought the dead back to life; it was one of my best tricks."

"It was brilliant," Nadir agreed, almost able to see a plan forming behind Erik's sunken gold eyes. "Think, Erik – we will need something just as brilliant."

"I have an idea. Give me an hour to consider it – I will not risk their lives unless I am confident the plan has no flaws, not one."

"You have your hour, Erik, but use it well. Every hour that passes is another hour closer to their deaths."


	24. Chapter 24

The northern palace of Mazandaran was filled with whispers when Nadir Khan strode in, flanked by two of his own soldiers in hoods. Since the beginning of his rebellion, many who had stayed behind in the palace blamed him for their troubles; tax increases, drafts into the Sultan's army of increasingly younger sons and brothers, the stress of it all sending their queen into madness. The man had gall alright, stepping foot into a palace where he was so hated.

What those men did not realize from so high up on their pedestals is how many people in the palace held their breath for a much different reason. To these people, Nadir Khan was a hero. Some had chosen to remain behind because of their age, the young age of their children or some illness, or perhaps they did not have the confidence in themselves or in the rebellion yet to risk so much and participate, but they prayed for its success every day along with the safety of its well respected leader. The prince was putting himself in a dangerous situation by coming so openly into the palace – was the revolution over so soon? Was he surrendering? Or perhaps this was just a part of some brilliant new scheme to lure the Sultan out into the open and have him killed?

Whether they agreed with Nadir's politics or not, most of the men who saw him enter that day would never know the purpose of his visit when he was swallowed whole by the doors of the Sultan's chambers.

"Nadir Khan. This is a surprise indeed. I expected you to send a handful of your men to deliver my prize," The Sultan explained, seated in his throne with his wicked little wife at her feet. In the Sultana's arms was sweet little Amitis. Nadir paled at the sight of such an awful woman holding his beautiful little niece, but otherwise did not stir; the girl was alive, that was enough for now.

"Frankly, I did not expect you to live up to your word. I've come to personally ensure that my sister and niece return with me alive. I see the child, but where is Sara?"

With a small gesture of the Sultan's hand, a pair of guards were welcomed in through another door. They carried Nadir's sister naked and chained tightly. She was painted from head to toe in henna, but though she looked frail her eyes were bright with life yet. "Nadir!"

"Sara, it's going to be alright, I am taking you home," the prince reassured. At the sound of her mother's voice, little Amitis began to whine and struggle in the Sultana's arms. The sound was uncomfortable and persistant, but the Sultana seemed to melt.

"What a beautiful sound!" She exalted. "How beautiful is her little voice! I cannot hear it enough. She's terribly quiet; usually I have to prick her feet with a knife to get her to cry."

Indignantly, Sara spat from her chains in the Sultana's direction. "You'll pay for this, you bitch."

"Oh will I? Darling, tell the little Khan family our news."

The Sultan held out his hand, palm up and suddenly Sara was shoved in his direction and her hand forced in his. "I've decided I don't want the Magician's head after all. Having Sara these past few days has proved… quite enjoyable," the man praised a length, eyes roaming over the fullness of her breasts and the delicate curve of her hip. Although his gaze made her ill, it was his words that struck a deeper cord and her eyes looked to Nadir in alarm.

The Magician's head! Surely Erik wasn't –

"I have your prize, and I demand mine!" Nadir barked, and one of the hooded soldiers behind him stepped forward with a box just over a cubic foot in size.

With a pained cry, Sara sank to her knees at the Sultan's side.

Intrigued, the Sultan beckoned the soldier bearing the box forward and the hooded man obeyed. "I must admit, Nadir, I did not think you would deliver."

Lifting the lid of the box as Sara sobbed, the Sultan withdrew the head inside. Fascinated, the Sultana put the infant aside on the cold ground and moved to her husband's side to inspect the masked face. "It's really him," she breathed, taking the head into her own hands and running a hand over the black hair of its scalp. As she did, her fingers caught on the binding of the mask and her whole body seemed to tremble with delight. "I never did get to see his face… I always imagined how horrible it must be. Did he ever show you his face, Little Sara? Did he ever put his horrendous mouth between your legs and sodomize you like the heathen he was?"

Sara wailed and held her face in her hands as the Sultana spoke, consumed by her grief. The mask was his! She knew that masked face like the back of her own hand. Every blemish in the leather, every curve… Erik was gone, and she was alone.

With eager hands the Sultana removed Erik's mask and hissed with great pleasure. "He was truly hideous! The Living Corpse – how fitting a name it was! Though now he is now merely a corpse…"

The Sultan turned his attention back to Nadir. "My wife is pleased with your gift… perhaps I spoke too hastily when I said our agreement was off. The head in exchange for your sister."

"And the child, as we agreed."

"No," the Sultana bellowed. "The girl is mine!"

Sara made to reach for her daughter on the floor by the Sultan's thrown but was yanked back harshly by her chains with a sharp cry. "Where she goes, I go!" Sara shouted. "I can't leave without my baby."

"Then we have no bargain," the Sultan droned. "Keep the head, and I will keep the women."

"Take me for barter instead," Nadir announced, and the room fell silent but for Sara's gasp and quiet murmurs of disbelief.

"No, Nadir, no…"

"Keep the head for your wife, and take me for yourself in exchange for the freedom of my sister and her daughter. The lives of two men and the end of an entire revolution for the lives of a woman and child – it is more than a fair barter," Nadir reasoned, stepping forward to the Sultan.

Looking down upon the prince for a long moment, the Sultan shouted to his guards. "Release the woman, and cover her up."

"What? _No_," the Sultana hissed, throwing her grotesque souvenir aside to move toward the child on the floor. By now the girl was crying wildly, even as Sara was released from her chains and moving forward without any care for her clothing.

Sara reached the girl first, snatching her up into her arms against her bare breast before the Sultana could pull the girl away. One of the hooded men stepped between the women, brandishing a blade to keep the Sultana at bay as the other guard took off his hooded traveling cloak and wrapped it around Sara and the child.

"Darius, Obadias, guard my sister well," Nadir bid his men.

"Let the woman and her guardians go unfollowed, and announce to the palace that Nadir Khan has been captured and will be executed at sundown," the Sultan commanded his men, who stepped aside to let the soldiers and their ward pass unfettered.

The soldiers tried to guide Sara to the door, but she resisted and looked over her shoulder at her brother. "Nadir, I love you. Please don't leave me alone."

"You're not alone, Sara. Go now, while you can. Who knows, we may see each other yet."

* * *

Sara was quiet the entire ride and well into the first night of camping as they headed northwest. Sitting by the fire, Sara fed her daughter in the privacy of the cloak the man named Obadias had given her and stared into the flames when the other man pressed a bowl of thick, warm broth into her free hand. "Please eat, Miss Sara. We have a ways to go yet."

Looking up at the man, Sara accepted the bowl and brought it to her lips to drink. "I remember you," she said after a long while. "Both of you. You were one of the Sultana's chamberlains, and you were one of Nadir's deputies," Sara recalled looking to Darius and Obadias in turn. "Are you really all Nadir came escorted by?"

Darius nodded. "He trusted Obadias and he thought you would trust me."

Obadias continued. "Any more than us and we might not have been allowed entrance to the palace."

With a quiet nod of understanding, Sara looked down at her daughter before continuing. "He knew this would happen, didn't he? That he would be taken?"

"He knew it was a possibility," Obadias admitted. "That is why he came himself instead of sending us alone."

Sara wiped at her eyes and cradled the now sleeping infant in her lap. "I'm sorry if I seem ungrateful," she said quietly. "It's been such an overwhelming day…"

"No need to apologize to us, Miss Sara. But don't fret – Nadir may make it out of this yet. He had a plan to escape in case he had to exchange your life for his. We're going to Azerbaijan to wait for him should he escape."

"How long are we to wait?"

"One month," Darius explained. "Someone else may be meeting us there sooner."

Sara frowned thoughtfully and pulled the cloak closer around her shoulders. "Do you know who?"

The chamberlain shook his head. "No, your brother never said. Only that if he was able to meet us he would find us, and that we would recognize him if the time came."

* * *

Sara could not imagine how anyone might find them in such a place as Azerbaijan. Although it bordered Persia, it was painfully clear the first city they encountered cross the Azerbaijani border that they were no longer home. The language was different, the food was different, the people were different… adjustments were necessary and did not come easily.

The one thing keeping Sara from complete devastation was her darling daughter. Amitis had come out of the ordeal that claimed her father and uncle completely unscathed. Besides the occasional babbled request for her father and the pensive look on her face when he would not appear, it was as though nothing had happened at all.

One week went by, followed by another and then a third. Sara stayed with her guardians in an inn, taking a room with her daughter adjoining one the men shared. It was a comfortable enough, warm and sheltered from the elements but Sara could not find it in her heart to be grateful for such a comfort. The bed was large and painfully lonely at night, and the movements and voices of the men in the next room over would sometimes wake Sara with the idea that perhaps her brother and husband were on the other side of the wall.

The fourth week of the month came the same as the last, and any hope Sara had dared to cling to faded. There was no mysterious stranger, no sign of her brother anywhere. Every day she went out with her guards to make themselves seen in the city in the hopes the stranger meant to find them would spot them and make himself known or that a wandering Nadir would rejoin them. Every day Sara returned to the inn with a heavy heart.

One month to the day after their arrival in Azerbaijan, at the end of another long day wandering about that southernmost city with no luck, Sara approached her guardians. "Good Sirs… You need not stay with me any longer. We may not have had sign of Nadir or his mysterious contact, but we have seen no sign of danger either."

"Dear Sara, where do you expect us to go?" Darius reasoned. "The revolution is over and lost – we cannot return to Mazandaran any more than you can. There is safety and companionship in numbers, and I for one do not plan to abandon that simply because thirty days have passed."

"Stay here, travel the world – it matters not where you go anymore, that is all I mean. But I can't stay here anymore. I can't walk around this city wondering if I may spot my brother around the next corner – if he is dead, his memory must rest."

Obadias drew in deeply on his pipe before speaking. "Where do you plan to go?"

"… France," Sara announced, hanging her head some once she had. "My husband born in France. I should like to see where he lived, and raise our daughter in his home since I cannot raise her in mine."

"Then, Madam, I go to France also," Darius said, taking her hands in his to pat them reassuringly.

After another draw on his pipe, Obadias blew out an impressive smoke ring. "The more of us that are together the less likely we are to be found – Sara if your brother is alive I should like to be here to greet him and tell him where he might find you."

Sara smiled sadly between them. "Your devotion to my family is touching, both of you. I only wish I could pay you for your dedication."

"Your brother thought far ahead for us all, Sara; he provided us with ample funds to start lives elsewhere in exchange for our aid, though we would have done our work for free. He gave us plenty to start you someplace also," Darius promised. "If that someplace is France, so be it."


	25. Chapter 25

"Alright my darlings, time for bed," Sara called, moving around the small bedroom picking up toys and placing them back into a basket by the door. Amitis came in, followed closely by little Reza who came toddling clumsily behind her.

Sara grinned from ear to ear and scooped the boy up just as he was about to lose his balance. "Look at you, walking all by yourself!" She praised, planting kisses on the boy's forehead.

Little Reza had come as quite surprise, and not an altogether pleasant one. Less than a week after leaving Azerbaijan it occurred to Sara that her monthly bleeding had not come the prior months when it was due. Shortly after that began the morning sickness and by the time she missed her next bleed Sara was dead certain she was with child.

The realization struck her like a knife and filled her with fear. Amitis would be only barely more than a year old when this new child would be due – could she raise two small children on her own? Moving to a foreign place would be hard enough with one child, but two? Would she be accepted in France without a husband to her two young children and a man she was not married to in her company? Darius was a eunuch, but surely there would be rumors.

More terrifying still, was the child Erik's?

In the three days she had been the Sultan's captive before Nadir came to rescue her, twice the Sultan had raped her. No matter how she cried and fought, there was no escaping the man; he was stronger than her and would have his way. The experience had been completely devastating, leaving her crying and praying for deliverance in the safety of Erik's arms.

The death of her husband overshadowed the pain of the Sultan's violation until the day she realized she was pregnant. Was fate really so cruel as to put her tormentor's baby in her womb? Sara and her husband were no strangers in the bedroom and had made love often in the days before she was stolen from the bazaar – was it possible she was with child before she was ever raped? Would she ever know?

Darius was a blessing through the entire event. Although he was not technically in her employ the chamberlain took it upon himself to wait on her as he had when she was living in the harem. While she cared for Amitis, Darius took care of the cooking and shopping as well as setting up and repacking their camp on the nights they could not find an inn. When she went into labor the man went out in the middle of the night to find a midwife willing to see her and when the child was born with a large scar across his neck and chest the man bought the midwife's silence with his own funds.

Relief and guilt struck Sara all at once as she held her son and knew immediately the boy was Erik's. Her fingers traced the boy's mottled flesh just below his right ear and along his jaw line, down his neck and spreading across his chest and Sara felt as though she might laugh and cry. The scars were identical to Erik's, little more than yellowed parchment stretched across sinew and bone.

The boy resembled Erik in more than just his scars. Like Amitis he was quiet but enormously perceptive, with large gold-flecked eyes that seemed to take in everything around them. His voice was sweet but his temper was far shorter than that of his mild-mannered sister, leading to tantrums that sorely tried Sara's patience.

"Mama, can we hear a story about Papa tonight?" Amitis asked, her vocabulary and grammar even in French startling for a child of her age.

"Certainly," Sara smiled, moving into bed beside her daughter. With Amitis under one arm and Reza settled into her lap, Sara began her story.

"Your Papa was the best magician in the entire world. He could speak to you without ever opening his mouth."

"No one can do that!" Amitis protested with a giggle.

Sara kissed the top of her head and pet her hair. "Your Papa could. And he could imitate practically anyone and anything while he did it. He built us a forest once, and filled it with the sounds of animals without ever moving his lips. Before my brother knew we were in love he used to whisper how much he loved me right into my ear, even when I couldn't see him."

"Is he whispering to you now?" The girl asked innocently.

More than a year and a half after the loss of her husband and the man who held her heart, it still took a moment for Sara to compose her words. "I think he's trying, my angel, but I imagine it's very difficult to whisper all the way from Paradise and be heard."

With a nod of understanding, Amitis settled down into the crook of her mother's arm to sleep. Sara stayed with her children until both were sound asleep before slipping from the bed and tucking her babies in for the night. Amitis would always be little, Sara guessed, but Reza was growing like a weed; it wouldn't be long before he would need a bed of his own. The already small room was supposed to be the master suite, with Sara and Darius having taken one each of the other, smaller bedrooms. There was no room left, and little money left…

Darius was waiting for her with tea when Sara slipped into the living room to sit by the fire. "You don't seem quite yourself, Miss Sara. Are you ill?"

With a small shake of her head, Sara accepted the tea. "No, I'm alright. Just a little homesick is all," she promised, and it was true. In the palace a growing family had room to move into a new apartment with more space, but three bedrooms in Paris was already more than they could afford with the money Nadir had provided them.

A knock at the door surprised them both. "I wonder who it can be at this hour?" Sara wondered aloud as Darius moved out of the room to answer the door. Immediately a muffled conversation began followed by a great laugh from Darius. Curious, Sara pulled a shawl around her shoulders and was about to move to the door when Darius returned with a figure she never imagined possible.

"Nadir!"

In a heartbeat Sara ran forward and embraced her brother, nearly knocking down by the force of her embrace. "I can't believe it, it's really you! I thought you were dead! Come and sit by the fire, you must be freezing. Darius could you put on more tea?"

Nadir laughed and followed his sister to the fire, taking the chair she had occupied while Sara pulled the other armchair closer by his. For the first time, she noticed the cane he carried and frowned. "You've hurt your leg!"

"I wish I could say it was from some egregious form of punishment, but alas it is self-inflicted. I jumped from far too high a ledge and landed poorly; I'm lucky my leg is all I injured, truthfully. That's why it's taken me so long to come."

"Long indeed! Look at you, you've grown a beard!" Sara teased, reaching forward to grab his chin.

"And at you! Do not think me unkind when I say our time apart has aged you, Sister. You look like a proper woman now instead of the girl I remember."

"Who's here, Mama?"

Amitis appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eyes sleepily with one hand while she held her brother's hand in the other.

Nadir glanced at the children in surprise while Sara moved to scoop the younger child up onto her hip and guide Amitis into the room by hand. "Children, this is your uncle Nadir, my brother."

"I thought uncle Nadir was in Paradise with Papa?" The girl asked, eying the stranger warily.

"I thought he was also," Sara promised with a comforting smile. "Amitis you were a baby smaller than Reza when your uncle last saw you, say hello."

After a moment of hesitation, the child released her mother's hand and curtsied politely. "How do you do?"

The Daroga laughed heartily. "Very well, Mademoiselle. Such manners! You are certainly your mother's daughter," he praised, and the girl smiled broadly at the compliment deciding she liked this uncle very much.

It was then that Nadir turned his attention to the child in Sara's arms. Standing (a far greater effort than when he was a young man, Sara noticed), he inspected the boy with a detective's eye even as the infant inspected him back.

"I was very newly pregnant when you rescued me," Sara explained quietly; her kidnapping was not a story she had dared tell the children. "I hope you don't mind – I named him Reza in your son's memory."

With a deep, steadying breath Sara thought her brother might start to cry before he spoke. "Mind? I am honored, Sara. You poor woman," he added, kissing her forehead and embracing her tightly. "I cannot begin to fathom what you've been through. He… He _is_ Erik's son, isn't he?"

"Yes, yes he is. I wasn't sure at first," she added, and her brother cringed. "But look at his eyes in the light, and on his neck, this side here," Sara explained, shifting Reza to her other hip to show Nadir the distorted flesh running into the collar of the boy's night shirt.

"A burden off your shoulders, I'm sure," Nadir remarked, and Sara nodded.

"On the one hand I know who his father is, on the other the scar will make life difficult for him. Not so difficult as Erik's, but…" she trailed off sadly. "Let me put the children back to bed and we'll talk more."

Moving off to return her children to their bed, Sara was surprised to find Nadir staring intently into the fire when she returned in spite of the fresh tray of tea and sweetbread Darius had set out. "Have some tea and something to eat, Brother," she offered, moving to pour him a cup.

"Sara I think you had better sit down," Nadir said. The uneasiness in his voice made Sara frown, and she obeyed.

Taking a small breath, the Daroga turned away from the fire to face his sister. "Erik isn't dead, Sara."

The woman's jaw tightened. "When did you become so cruel, Nadir? Of course he is dead, or do you expect me to believe he's traveling the world without his head?"

"It wasn't his head you saw, only his mask. We took the head off a corpse that had begun to mummify in a desert grave. He was supposed to meet you in Azerbaijan; that is why I had the men wait for a month. I learned from Obadias he never found you."

Sara only glowered. "You are a monster, Nadir Khan! Your lies are cruel! My husband is dead – and you killed him too, didn't you? Did he tell you to do it? I imagine he did, the selfish bastard!" The woman spat, months of tightly concealed frustration and anger spilling tearfully over. "It's easy enough for him to die, while I'm the one left behind raising his children alone! No income, no father for my babies, night after night in an empty bed."

Tears came freely as Sara cupped her face in her hands and sobbed. Nadir stood, moving to her side to place a comforting hand on her back as she cried. "I am sorry I could not tell you sooner. I had hoped to tell you myself in Azerbaijan but with my leg as it was you left before I could arrive. Erik insisted we not tell even Obadias and Darius or the Sultan might suspect he was being fooled."

"If what you say is true, why didn't he come to meet us in Azerbaijan? We waited the full month, we went out into public to be seen," Sara breathed, wiping at her eyes.

"I don't know," Nadir admitted. "Perhaps he was in another city, or perhaps he was in the countryside."

"Why would he leave us alone?"

"I am certain it was his intent," the Daroga promised. "He lives, Sara. And what's more – I think he may be here in Paris."

The woman's eyes widened as Nadir spoke. "I've been in the city myself close to a month now. I was asking around for you when I began to hear rumors about a ghost at the construction site of the new Opera house on the other end of town. They say the ghost lurks in the cellar, has glowing yellow eyes and a white mask."

"Nadir… do you really think? Could it really be him?"

"I won't know for sure until I can find this ghost. It could be just a figment of tired workers' imaginations… but knowing Erik I think it might just be possible."


	26. Chapter 26

Two years, one month and six days after Erik had last seen Sara, he began to see her everywhere he looked.

The first time he imagined Sara might be in Paris was in the market closest to the recently completed Palais Garnier. She had looked so odd in French clothes against her darkened skin she could not help but notice her among the crowd, thick black waves pinned neatly back in an attempt to match the day's fashion and avoid standing out. She was alone, sorting through the day's selection of bright flowers and fresh produce. Even from the distance he stood, the jade of her eyes shone brightly and drew him out of the shadows and into the crowd. By the time Erik had reached where he imagined her standing, she had vanished as illusions are wont to do.

The next vision was crueler still. Erik imagined Sara in the park with a young girl who might have been his daughter's age, on an afternoon stroll in the sunshine. She smiled and laughed as the girl was chased through the grass by a younger boy, and Erik shook his head to force the image away. It was madness, the product of an imagined life with the wife he had lost – the boy was proof of that. In another life Erik might have had a son, but fate was unkind.

Nothing could explain why after a year and a half after moving to Paris Erik was suddenly imagining his wife at every turn, but there she was like a dream within a dream. Every glimpse of the woman threatened to drive him mad. Walking down the street, sipping tea at a corner café, smiling and walking with the children they might have had… Every time he imagined her broke his heart and made going out into the city increasingly difficult.

Fortunately, the Opera provided Erik nearly everything he needed. He had a house of considerable size and charm in the cellars, right on the edge of the underground lake that had made construction on the Palais Garnier so harrowing, and a steady income from the booming business above him.

The managers of the Opera thought him an extortionist, but if they only knew! Erik worked tirelessly to keep the Opera running to the highest of standards, and his work paid off. Minute changes to the stage and auditorium had improved the acoustics of the building overnight, broken sets were repaired with a meticulous hand, ballerinas were frightened into returning to their rehearsals from the arms of stagehands, musicians were forced to either constantly improve or find a new career. All of these services Erik provided made the Opera a well-oiled machine, resulting in what was critically acclaimed to be the finest Opera House in all of France.

With the large salary he was earning from the Opera, Erik found it only necessary to go out a handful of times every month to replenish his supplies, and then only for a few hours at a time. He bribed grocers and florists to have his orders ready as soon as he arrived and had clothes delivered directly to the closest entrance of the catacombs he used to come and go from the Opera House. Even these few hours above ground were often too much for Erik, and his hallucinations followed him throughout the hours.

Solitude did not help matters. Not long after Erik began to see Sara around Paris, visions of her began to follow him home. He imagined her weight beside him in bed but when he turned to hold her she was gone. Her sweet voice would sing out to him from the dining room, stopping as soon as Erik made his way into the empty room. It was after one such encounter with the ghost of his wife that Erik met Christine Daae, some six months after he first began to see images of his wife wherever he looked.

Christine was a petite little thing, a chorus girl living in the dormitories of the Opera. With blonde hair, blue eyes and no discernible figure to speak of, she was about as different a woman from Sara as Erik could imagine. She was neither loved nor hated by any of her peers, a rare place to be in a group of young, catty women like the girls of the chorus. Of all the girls, she had one close friend in the group she rarely parted from.

"Meg, we're going to be late! You know how angry Madame gets when -"

"Didn't you hear that just now?" The girl called Meg answered, making her way to where Erik had been only a moment before. "What if it's the Opera Ghost?"

"All the more reason to leave now," Christine pressed, glancing around nervously.

"I'll be right behind you," Meg promised, waving her friend on without her.

It was Christine Erik followed, calling out her name in a melodic and haunting fashion that stopped the girl dead in her tracks.

She turned in place, her eyes turned to heaven and her heart full with awe at the sound. "Are you… are you the Angel of Music?"

Without knowing it, the girl had given Erik the perfect opportunity to anchor himself in her life and begin to free himself of the grip his prior life still held. "Yes, Christine. I am the Angel of Music."

With her hands clasped over her heart, the girl seemed to be in a state of rapture. "Angel, your voice is even more beautiful than Papa said it would be."

"You have a lovely voice yourself, Christine," Erik promised. It was true; he had been listening to her since the day she first caught his eye. Her tone and clarity were superb, if uncultured. There was very little power in her voice, but that was something easily fixed. Even as he spoke, a plan to win her heart was beginning to form. "With the right teacher, you could be a great musician someday."

"Do you really think so?"

"I do."

The girl turned again, still looking for the source of the mysterious voice. "Oh, Angel – would you teach me to sing? Not just like the girls in the chorus but like a real soprano?"

"It would be my pleasure, Child," Erik said, watching as joy overcame the girl. How long it had been since anyone was so happy on his account! "Do not look for me – when it is time to begin your lessons, I will come to you. Go now, before the ballet mistress misses you."

Moving off down the hall, Christine looked as though she had never been happier in her life. When she had gone, Erik returned to his house by the underground lake nearly as elated.

* * *

Erik was a difficult man to find. Since the completion of the Opera House, Nadir had lost every lead he had in tracking down the masked "ghost" working in the cellars. Still, the Daroga did not have to start fresh; Erik was a creature of habit, and surely had not gone far.

Sara's tales about her outings made Nadir certain he was still looking in the right place. Several times she had come home convinced she had seen a glimpse of the man out of the corner of her eye, or that he had been lingering in the shadows nearby and moved off before she could reach him. Nadir inspected each of the places his sister saw the man with no luck, until the day he visited a café nearby the Palais Garnier.

"Have you seen the door of L'Opera recently?" One woman asked another over a cup of hot coffee.

"Yes! Can you believe it? And I thought they were just stories!" The other woman exclaimed.

The first woman leaned in as if not wanting to be overheard, but made no effort to lower her voice. "A horseshoe isn't going to do anything to ward off that ghost if you ask me. Twaddle and rubbish, all of it."

"Can you blame the manager for trying? I hear he's bribing the guost with thousands of francs a month to keep him from being a complete terror. My niece, the ballerina? She says the ghost torments them constantly regardless."

Nadir went right from the café to the Palais Garnier, walking right through the door with the upturned horseshoe nailed at eye level in an attempt to keep out evil. He wasn't in the building long before the manager had found him, clearly quite nervous about the appearance of a foreigner in his business.

"Can I help you, Monsieur?"

"Actually, I've come to help you," the Daroga explained, his accent thick. "I hear you're having trouble with a ghost."

A look of surprise crossed the manager's face as he regarded the Persian. "Well… Yes."

"I believe this ghost may be an old acquaintance of mine. Could you describe him for me?"

"Forgive me, Monsieur, but any friend of his is not exactly a friend of mine. What did you say your name was?" The manager pressed.

"The fault is mine," Nadir promised with a small bow. "I am Nadir Khan, former Daroga of Persia. I believe you would know me as a police chief. I would like to get the ghost out of your hair, if you would be so kind as to assist me in doing so."

Again the manager regarded Nadir carefully before responding with a similar bow. "Monsieur Khan, any help you can offer me would be very much appreciated. He is going to bankrupt me. I've never seen him, personally, but one of our ushers Madame Giry is his correspondent. Perhaps she has seen him and can describe him for you."

Madame Giry had little to say on the subject of the Opera Ghost, only that she knew him by voice and that meddling in fairs of the Ghost meant great troubles. The stagehands, however, were far more willing to talk.

"The Ghost is well over six feet tall, dressed sharply all in black except for a mask he wears on his face that almost glows in the light," a man called Buquet explained at great length. "His mask isn't the only thing that glows – his eyes shine like a dog's. And what's more – I've seen him without the mask. He is hideous, with skin like parchment and a great black hole where there ought to be a nose."

Convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Erik was the Opera Ghost, Nadir pressed on. "Where do you see him most frequently? It is important that I speak with him."

"The cellars, mostly. I've spotted him when I was painting sets and drops, but I wouldn't go down there if I were you. It's a labyrinth, people get lost."

"I will take my chances," Nadir promised. "Take me there."

Buquet agreed, promising only to bring the man there and refusing to wait to show him out again. As soon as he was alone, Nadir spoke out in his native tongue.

"Erik, if you can hear me I need to speak with you. Erik?"

It wasn't long before the Magician found him. "Stop your squawking, Daroga, before someone hears you," he hissed, also in Farsi but still unseen in the darkness of the cellar.

"It's good to see you too," Nadir remarked dryly. "Or hear you, anyway."

The Magician stepped out of the shadows, as tall as ever with a gleaming white mask gracing his face instead of the black one they had left behind in Mazanderan two years prior. Surprising himself, Nadir could not help but smile at the sight of him and embraced his brother-in-law firmly. "It's been too long. You're a difficult man to track down, do you know that?"

"Not difficult enough, it seems. You were never a very good detective but even you managed to find me," Erik drawled, though not without amusement as he returned the embrace. "Come, let me show you where I've been staying and you can tell me how you're enjoying Paris."

"I was hoping you'd come with me, actually. I have a surprise for you in my flat," Nadir pressed, but Erik dismissed him with a wave.

"Nonsense, I'm far closer," the masked man promised, walking down further into the cellar with the Daroga not far behind before slipping between several large stage drops and vanishing. Following suit, Nadir frowned curiously – in front of him was nothing at all, just a wall and several smaller wooden set pieces. After a moment's inspection, he noticed one of the smaller pieces had slightly less dust than the others and soon Erik's voice called out from behind it at a distance.

"It's a bit of a drop, be prepared."

Pulling the set forward, Nadir discovered a gap where the wall met the floor illuminated by a bright light beyond. Slipping in and allowing the set piece to fall naturally back into place behind him, Nadir dropped down what must have been nearly a full story, jarring him.

"You weren't kidding," the man breathed, and Erik chuckled seemingly unfazed by the drop as he gestured around them. Glancing around, the Daroga could not help but shudder.

They were standing in a nearly perfect replica of the forest Erik had made for his wife, the same one Nadir had been trapped in for more days than he cared to remember. "Why would you build something like this again?"

"It started out as nostalgic, but it's become something of a protection. There's a lake at one entrance and this on the other end; no one can come in or out without my knowing about it," Erik explained, pressing a hidden lever with his foot to open up a panel in the far wall into the house itself.

It was very similar to the house Erik had built for Sara, although furnished in a more European fashion. There was still an eastern flair to the place, with the walls covered in tapestries and the floors with ornate Persian rugs and ceramics.

"It's charming," Nadir praised. "So much like your old home."

"The rooms are in nearly the same place, though I did omit the room you had been living in for lack of space. With a lake on one and the rest surrounded by catacombs it was a trickier build, I'm quite proud of it," Erik explained, moving into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

"You were always a brilliant architect. I assume you were the ghost I was hearing about while this place was under construction?"

"Yes, which reminds me – if you're ever foolish enough to come down here again, do _not_ use the entrance I just took you through, and if you do come down keep your hand at the level of your eyes. I've had too many close calls between the construction workers and the stagehands making their way down here."

"Well, I was hoping to talk to you about that actually. I don't think I should be coming down here much at all," Nadir began. "Frankly I don't think you should be down here so much. It wasn't healthy when you were living in Persia and it's far less healthy now alone."

After a lengthy silence, Erik sat with a cup of hot coffee and nursed it before speaking at length. "I can't go back up there, Daroga. There's nothing for me there, not like there was in Persia. In Persia I was treated like a man, a prince even. I had a wife, a child, a friend, steady work I adored – In Persia, I was _alive_ for the first time in my life. Coming back here has been hell. Until recently I thought it would drive me mad. I wanted that life back so badly I was hallucinating… but not anymore, Nadir. Not here. Here I am important again, not even just a man but something more! I've met someone, a beautiful young woman who needs me just as much as I need her. She calls me Angel! Can you imagine it – me, an Angel?"

"Sara is here, in Paris," Nadir said before the foolish man in front of him could utter another word and dig his grave deeper. "She is the surprise I had waiting for you in my flat – she has been living with me for a year now while I looked for you."


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note:** I know, I know - it's been a while! Life has been too amazing to even begin to explain the past few months. Now that I'm on summer break I will (hopefully) have a bit more time to write again. I highly recommend going back at least a few chapters and refreshing your memories if you're an old fan of the story.

* * *

With the children sick, Sara found herself with a few moments alone for the first time in ages. It pained her to hear their sniffles and coughs from the bedroom where they rested, but the physician had promised they weren't so ill that a few days rest wouldn't do the trick and she found herself with stretches of time and no way to fill them.

Sara hated these moments, as rare as they were. Three years after losing Erik, the loss still felt fresh when she was left alone. It was almost worse knowing Erik was somewhere in the city, just beyond her reach than the days she thought he was dead. When he was dead, there was closure. When he was dead, Sara could hold on to the fantasy that somewhere Erik was watching over her, living on in her heart. Loneliness was easier to keep at bay when her husband had no choice but to be apart from her.

Knowing he was in Paris was a blessing and a curse. He was alive, living and breathing as he deserved to be. No part of Sara wished her husband dead, and knowing he was alive filled her heart to the brim. It was the moments she spotted him so close by that Sara could almost call out to him, the moments he might have seen her too that tore her in two. Why hadn't he come for her? Why wasn't he looking for her as fervently as she and Nadir looked for him?

To keep these thoughts at bay, Sara cleaned the already well-kept house from top to bottom before starting on lunch for her children. Although Nadir had been gone all day and Darius was given a week's vacation, she made a large enough serving for a small army simply to keep herself occupied for as long as possible. Just as she was about to ladle servings for her children, the door opened and closed from the front of the house.

"You're just in time for lunch," Sara called, pulling down another bowl to serve her brother. "Though I don't think you'll want to join us, Amitis and Reza are still coughing."

When Sara turned, she dropped the bowl and shattered on the floor while her hands covered her mouth in shock. With jade eyes wide, she took in the sight before her. He was taller than she remembered, and Sara wondered whether he had grown or if her memory simply wasn't as good as she thought. The mask was different too, white and shining instead of black and matte. Paired with his hair and the European suit he wore, it was a dashing contrast.

Before she could step forward, Erik held up a hand to stop her. "Watch your step," he advised in a voice as beautiful as ever, and Sara suddenly remembered the shattered bowl on the floor and her bare feet.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, quickly coming to her senses and reaching for a dishtowel to collect the pieces of the broken bowl at her feet. When she stood again, Erik was standing so close her head was filled with his familiar scent and the warmth of his chest. Before she could react, his mouth came crashing down onto hers and the strength of his arms was the only thing keeping her on her feet.

Moments later, Sara fell into bed with her husband for the first time in years. Their actions were urgent, bringing them both to release in only minutes. Between the sweat, gasps, and moans, the passion between them was as if they had never parted. Even when they were through they continued to kiss and stroke one another, soon making love again, this time savoring one another's company for as long as possible.

Sara draped herself over Erik languidly, littering kisses across his chest. "I've missed you," she whispered, putting into words what she hoped her body had conveyed.

"I didn't think I would find you again," Erik admitted. "I spent two months looking for you in Azerbaijan. I must have gone to every inn in the country."

"Except the one I was staying in," frowned Sara, settling into the crook of his arm. "We were there for a month waiting for Nadir – The whole time I thought you were dead. When no one came I was certain he was dead too. Imagine my surprise when Nadir turned up and said you were not only alive but right here in Paris."

Erik ran his fingers through her hair. "That is one thing I don't understand – what brought you to Paris? I thought I saw you every now and again but I couldn't imagine a reason you would come here all the way from Persia. Nadir gave one, but -"

Just then the door creaked open and Sara's heart stopped dead in her chest as she ensured she and Erik were properly covered. The toddler at the door barely seemed to notice as he gave a small cough. "Mama, my throat hurts."

"I have hot soup ready in the kitchen darling, go and wait at the table and I'll bring it for you," she promised, placating the boy enough for him to close the door. Sara let out a long exhale and pushed back her hair before leaning over Erik to kiss him again and slipping from the bed.

"So I'm not going mad," Erik reflected, moving from the bed to dress as well. Sara could not help but note a change in his voice. "You do have a son."

"Yes, little Reza. He's quite a remarkable little boy, when he's not throwing a tantrum," she smiled over her shoulder to him. "I suppose I'm not going mad either, if you've seen him before. I thought I saw you a few times while we were all at the park, but figured I must be dreaming."

That smile did not last long.

"Whose son is he?"

The woman's jaw nearly fell to the floor. "I'm sorry?"

"I asked you whose son he is," Erik pressed, his voice dry.

Sara's eyes betrayed her hurt, and she clenched her jaw tight. He could not possibly have known how is words rubbed salt into old wounds. "He's yours. I wish I could say 'of course', but it wasn't so obvious to me either until he was born."

"He can't possibly be mine," Erik insisted, but Sara stopped him before he could continue.

"Before you dare suggest what you're about to, you should know that I was raped. For eight months, I didn't know if the life growing inside me was fathered by someone I loved or someone I _hated_," she hissed, tears welling in her eyes at the memory before being quickly wiped away. "Reza is your son, whether you think it's possible or not."

"How do you know? If what you say is true –"

"There is no 'if' - what I say _is_ true," Sara snapped. "I've never been with a man before you, and never with one after the Sultan had his way with me. I must have been pregnant when I was taken; it's all I can think of."

"How do you know the boy is mine and not that monster's?" Erik demanded.

"His scars," she explained simply, her voice tight. Without another word she moved to the mirror to make sure her face was dry of tears before slipping from the room to tend to her son.

Hiding her emotions was a well-practiced habit around her children; if Reza noticed something was wrong he said nothing when she placed a bowl of soup in front of him. "Blow on it first, it's very hot," she advised before moving to the children's bedroom to rouse Amitis long enough to eat. She carried the girl out on her hip placed her in the chair next to her brother.

Amitis was not so quiet as her brother. "Mama, who's that man?"

Sara turned to find Erik standing in the doorway, fully dressed and masked. Her heart clenched as she quickly thought of what to tell them. "His name is Erik," she said, not willing to subject her children to the reality that their father was not only alive but would hopefully be a returning figure in their lives, not while they were sick and there were so many uncertainties.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Erik," Amitis offered the man politely before coughing.

"The pleasure is mine," Erik promised gently, somewhat surprised at how well her French was spoken for a girl so young. "That's a terrible cough you have."

"We're sick," the girl explained, taking a few small sips at her soup.

"I can see."

"Did you want to join us?" Sara offered from behind her children. "I made plenty."

After a moment of consideration, Erik inclined his head. "I suppose I could stay for a bit. But there are rehearsals to oversee tonight so I shouldn't stay long."

"Are you an actor, Monsieur Erik?" Amitis asked, her voice hoarse but tinged with admiration.

"Goodness, no. Actors are wretched little people with not enough talent to make it into the Opera. I am a musician."

"Erik was the finest musician I've ever heard. You could give him practically any instrument and in only a few minutes would master it. And his voice… his voice could talk the dead into waking," Sara explained, smiling some to the man.

"I think I would like to be a musician someday," Amitis decided before blowing on her soup.

Amused, Erik pressed her. "Oh? And what instrument would you play?"

"Something pretty. The flute, maybe. Or maybe I could sing."

"Well if you plan to sing, you ought to be more careful with your voice," Erik advised. "I've been singing a good many years and if there's one thing I've learned it's never to speak with pain in your throat. It's awful for the voice."

More comically than the girl intended, she gasped and quickly pressed her lips tight together, quite intent on not speaking again until her cold was well and truly gone. Sara laughed. "Mon chouchou, you'll need to open your mouth to eat your soup," she explained to the girl, placing a kiss on top of her head. Relenting, the girl dipped her spoon into the bowl to eat.

Bringing two more bowls to the table, Sara sat beside her husband at the head of the table to help Reza with his meal.

"What is it you're rehearsing at the Opera?"

"_Le comte Ory,_ by Rossini," Erik explained. "I'm not rehearsing it per se, but the company is. I oversee the rehearsals and give my notes at the end of the night, sometimes during if they're terribly atrocious that day."

"I've never heard of it. What is it about?" Sara asked with a smile, enjoying the ease and passion with which he spoke. It was as if he had never been away.

"There is a count named Ory, very much in love with a countess named Adele. All of the men are away at war except a few, and with the men away the count Ory decides to disguise himself as an old hermit to give the people of the town advice on love. However he is not the only one in love with the Countess Adele – Count Ory's pageboy is in love with her also. When the Countess comes to Ory to ask for a cure for her melancholia, the count in disguise suggests she fall in love which she promptly does," Erik explained.

"Let me guess – with the pageboy?" Sara offered.

Erik chuckled some pleasantly. "Yes, very good. The second act is immensely comedic. Count Ory disguises himself as a woman to gain entrance to the castle. He goes into the Countess' room in the middle of the night to attempt to woo her, only to find it's the pageboy's hand he's holding."

Unable to help herself, little Amitis giggled before covering her mouth with her hand. "It's alright," Erik promised with a smile. "They do say laughter is the best medicine. You ought to come and see it when it's ready. The woman playing Adele is absolutely superb. I've been training her myself, I know you will like her."

"Don't say another word," the voice of Nadir Khan barked from the kitchen doorway, startling boy Sara and the children. It was very rare for her brother to take on such a tone.

"Nadir, come and have lunch with us. Erik was just telling us about –"

"Yes I know what he was telling you about. Monsieur, may I have a word with you for a moment? Outside?"


End file.
